Herding cats

It’s one of those days when I feel like I’m just herding cats put here.

  • We talked yesterday about Mr B’s latest weapon in his never-ending attack on mother nature
  • I’m hanging laundry out to dry and trip over a fucking tractor attachment
  • Sunshine is rearranging all the things outside because apparently, Mr B needs to move dirt in the area behind our little house. Again.
  • My phone is having difficulty uploading pictures since the latest somethingsomething update attacked.
  • During the process of moving shit from behind out house so Mr B can move dirt there (again), part of my she-shed got taken over by a fucking chair Sunshine uses in one of his 4826553940753884635259 hunting stands. He had set it up in the middle of the living room floor and declared that a great place for the chair. I moved it to a better great place–outside. Which prompted a round of passive-aggressive bitching from Sunshine about it photodegrading outside in the sun. I reached a point of “anything to shut this asshole up” and shoved it in my she-shed until I have enough spoons to think up the greatest place of all to put the fucking chair.
  • The neighbor has brought over a giant green tractor to pressure was in front of my house. When I say big, I mean stupid big, but my phone isn’t uploading pics right now so I can’t show you the big green tractor that is as tall as my house.
  • Sunshine spilled yogurt in the floor trying to eat pizza. Herding cats, I tell you.
  • I have gotten a bit overheated and am now lying in the floor with my head resting on my giant floor pillow that Mollie declared was HER floor pillow

Hope your day is more fun than herding cats.

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The Debacle Grows

Last night, Sunshine discovered that the toilet we were told we could use? Was flushing into the backyard.

Apparently, that was enough to get these assholes out here to actually do some fucking work. Of course, while they were here, they dug yet another trench. This one is for the electrical run that powers the pumps for the aerobic system.

Apparently, they heard me bitching about how that newest trench could NOT be left that way when they left for the day, because they’re out there filling it in right now.

Rescue babies

My Mollie is a rescue baby, and sometimes she makes me wonder “who rescued who?” Our first cat was a rescue of sorts (a friend had a stray and I needed a cat). Our second cat was another rescue of sorts (a couple needed to find homes for a litter of kittens).

So this past weekend at work, when my co-worker found a baby kitten that didn’t seem to have a mother, of course I said I’d take it home with me. One of our cats is nursing a kitten (we didn’t even know she was pregnant or had kittens until we encountered a random kitten near our RV), so I was hopeful we could get it to adopt this poor runty little stray. Our first cat took our second car under her wings, so I knew it was possible.

Well, the first night didn’t go very well. The mama cat hissed at the new baby. I gave it some wet cat food, and it licked up all the juice, so at least it wasn’t going to starve. The next morning, I took it up the hill to get some more wet food and try and get it to eat. The mama cat heard it crying, and came running. Mama started to grab the baby by the neck and take it to her hiding spot with her own kitten, but Mollie startled her. At this point, I knew there was hope, so I grabbed mama and stray kitten and held them both in my arms.

It worked!

Well, sort of.

I’m not 100% sure she is still nursing this baby. I am 100% certain she is protecting it from our other cats and from any dogs or chickens that get too close. The kitten was hungry enough that it ate some dry cat food yesterday morning, so we’re making sure to give the baby a chance to eat, helping mama guard it from any creature that would take the baby’s food. In mama’s defense, I think she is trying to wean her own kitten, so she is probably not letting either kitten nurse much.

We’ve left the tiny little baby with her, and it seems to be doing well, as long as we make sure it has the chance to eat until it’s full at least twice a day. It is a very curious and adventurous little thing, far more sociable than its adopted sibling. I’ve named her Peaches, in honor of the fact that she was found at a fruit stand.

I’m glad this worked out so well. I was starting to fear we were going to have to go buy kitten milk replacement formula and feed the little runt with a dropper, letting it stay in a crate in our new house until it was big enough to fend for itself. I’m allergic to cats, so keeping it inside wasn’t something I was excited about doing. Now, we have a new addition to our rodent elimination army, and that helps keep snakes away from our living areas (which is never a bad thing).

How to clean house, in 4(-ish) easy steps

1) Start throwing shit in the middle of the biggest open floor space you have available to you in your house. This pile will be all the shit you’ve just crammed out of the way until you can deal with it. My pile has taken over the former dining area of the magic bus.

My view from the couch.

2) Get yourself a giant contractor clean-up bag. These things are wonderful. They’re huge, and thick enough that a bag full of demolition debris isn’t likely to poke holes in it.

They will also hold 1.3 human bodies if you cut them up right. Don’t ask me how my second husband and I came to that figure. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.

Clean all the garbage out of your car, put it in the contractor bag, and promptly bring the bag inside your house and toss it in middle of the floor.

3) Start doing find-a-word puzzles.

B) binge watch some shit on Netflix

3.iv) Between episodes, do some laundry and a few very small DIY projects for the new house.

3v) figure out why the dishwasher has malfunctioned

4) Around sunset, start scrambling to clean up this bullshit before Sunshine’s imminent return from out of town. Start stuffing shit in the back seat of your car, the pantry of the pink house, under the bed, behind your clothes in the closet, in the driver’s seat of the magic bus, and anywhere else Sunshine won’t see it (so he isn’t afraid to leave you with no adult supervision while he’s working out of town).

I hope you find these housecleaning tips informative. Be sure to follow me on Twitter for more life-hacks like this, and comment below to share any cleaning hacks you’ve invented.

Desperate times…

…call for desperate measures.

It started raining earlier today, and by mid-afternoon, the steps to the RVs out here were already coated in ice. It got ugly quick.

It is now only 7:30PM and this

is some bullshit.

I went to the laundry-pantry-room to get a can of kosher salt to ice down my front steps and we didn’t have any more.

Side note: it probably all got dumped in RV holding tanks during the last hard freeze when everybody’s drain lines froze along with their supply lines. We had to quickly thaw those blockages out when water came back because the constant drip in every faucet (to prevent a rezfreeze) filled tanks fast and they had to be dumped.

What I DID have, however, was a rather healthy supply of bags of this

Which is the desperate measure I just employed to ice my front steps.

Y’all stay warm and dry, wherever you are. I’m in for the night, warm and dry with hot cocoa just begging me to drink it; and a backup plan to retreat to the house (where there’s a fireplace) if we lose power.

Did anybody get the license plate number of that freight train?

In case you’re confused, I’m referring to the freight train that hit me Friday evening, about 15 minutes after I got home from work.

I felt it in my throat first, but it was only a few seconds later that I felt it in my lungs. If only I had realized then how bad it was going to be, I could have saved myself a bit of pain and suffering. However, I was blissfully unaware of what I was in for, and I went to work as scheduled on Saturday.

When I got home Saturday night, I made it to the bedroom and ran out of spoons. I just laid across the foot of the bed and coughed and cried. That’s pretty much how Sunshine found me when he wandered back inside from hanging out with Mr B. He made me some chicken and stars soup (chicken noodle is just so messy compared to those delightful little pasta stars), gave me a frozen yogurt popsicle, and helped me get medicated for the night.

Yesterday, he left to go back to Shreveport for work, which would piss me off if it weren’t so predictable. He’ll, he worked the day I had my partial hysterectomy, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he went to work in spite of the fact that I’m dealing with chest congestion.

Now, chest congestion doesn’t sound like that big of a deal; and for most people it wouldn’t be. However, I have COPD (and probably some scarring in my left lung from pneumonia a few years ago). So this isn’t good.

Imagine having a sore throat. You know what that’s like: sandpaper, ground glass, raw. Now, imagine that sore throat behind your right bewb. Because that’s pretty much what my chest feels like on the right side. On the left side, it doesn’t extend quite as far south, but it’s there nonetheless. When I cough, it’s like fire or electric shock or something shoots into my lungs, making it feel even worse.

I’m throwing everything at it: cough drops, essential oils, peppermint candies, steam, mentholated rub… Even cough syrup isn’t helping, and I’m taking the kind with dextromethorphin in it. No matter how much cough suppressant I pour down my throat, I’m still coughing. It’s actually got me a little bit scared, and not anxiety scared. Thank heaven the anxiety is staying well controlled right now, because I couldn’t handle that on top of this searing pain in my chest. This scared feeling is more realistic than anxiety; if I don’t get on top of this now, fuck knows what kind of damage it’s going to do to my lungs.

I just got off the phone with my primary’s office and they’re squeezing me in at 10:45. Hopefully, she can help me find some relief.