Heat wave

I haven’t posted in a couple of days. We’re in the middle of a heat wave, and I had the day trip from hell on Tuesday. I spent most of Tuesday in a vehicle, with my little Mollie, in this heat wave that feels like the gates of hell have opened up because Sam and Dean Winchester did something stupid, scorching the earth; and there is no Castiel to save us.

Mollie has had something going on with her little forelegs and paws. I finally decided that enough is enough; it was time to take her to the doctor. Pancho had some things to take care of in Shreveport anyway, and Sunshine made arrangements for me to pick up some freegan windows for our little house, and a replacement for my dying Volvo while I was over there and had Pancho to help me get it home.

side note: Pancho was a mechanic in a previous incarnation. He doesn’t want to do mechanicking for a living anymore, but he’s willing to do a bit of it to help out around here.

I wound up spending a lot of time in the Volvo, parked in the shade, waiting on things to happen. Even in the shade, my car’s air conditioner could not keep up. I had started to wonder if I was having hot flashes until I saw this:

108 according to volvo

This might explain why I was hot as fuck inside a car with cold air conditioning that was parked in the shade.

It ain’t even August yet, people. Someone summon Castiel before I have to make a deal with the King of Hell to end this heatwave.

final note: Mollie was diagnosed with a generalized, widespread yeast infection. Her skin and ears were examined, tested, and treated. I was sent home with a ridiculous amount of medications, creams, drops, and potions. I spent $300 trying to save my little Mollie from some very miserable itching on her legs & feet and in her ears. Mr B spent $46 to get his pit bull seen by a local vet for a very similar issue on her side. Mollie’s doctor got into some very aggressive treatment, since this is not the first time Mollie has had an infection like this and is apparently one of the doxies that is predisposed to contract yeast infections very easily. Hopefully, my poor furbaby starts getting some relief.

Going all in

So, I told you about the ridiculous couch I picked for my little house. Well, this week I bought some ridiculous throw pillows to go with the ridiculous couch. I went maximal.

I went for texture, and a bit of sheen, and a hint of purple.

There are two sets of the printed and pleated pillows, accounting for four of the six pillows I bought. The printed one reads black and gold in the pics, but it’s not black. It’s a deep brown that has a purple undertone. My accent colors are going to be deep blues and purples, so the couch can have some purple pillows to tie it all together.

Then there are the two oddball pillows that I just couldn’t say no to.

Yep, that’s a faux mink pillow and a faux silk dupioni with embroidery.

I have no words for myself.

final note: the pillows came from the thrift shop, and cost me a grand total of $13. I’ll give them a good cleaning (along with the couch) before they enter my house

I got zero understanding

Mr B brought his RV home from the dealership where he had it on consignment. He and Mrs B used it for a couple of weeks at the lake, then Mr B sold it outright to a different RV dealer.

While it sat here waiting for all this stuff to happen to it, Mr B did some minor things to it. I have no idea what those things were, I just know that it has been at least month since I saw him up on a ladder doing things to the RV.

Today, while walking around the yard with Mollie, I was struck by this:

ladder to nowhere

Part of me wanted to just scratch my head and wonder why on earth there is a ladder to nowhere in the middle of the yard. However, there’s a bigger part of me that knows that it fits the pattern around here: Mr B takes out thing, uses thing, leaves thing where he got done using it.

Welcome to my world, where ladders to nowhere are a thing.

Blue Sky Tag

Thank you, Nusrath Sariffo’deen (Diary of a Muslim Girl) for nominating me for the blue sky tag. I shall now attempt to answer your questions so that the world can get to know me better the way I got to know you a little better reading your questions and answers.

  1. Describe yourself in one word: Recovering. I am a recovering addict. I am also treating depression and anxiety. So recovering is the word I think describes me.
  2. Coke or Pepsi? Neither, but if I have to choose one, then Coke. The Mexican Coke, made with actual sugar and not that high-fructose-muckity-muck
  3. Desk: messy or organized? I prefer organized, but I often let it get messy when I don’t have time to do all the things I think I want to do. I can’t stand clutter.
  4. Pet Ownership: which is better, dog or cat? Depends on what we’re talking about. Cats are better for rodent control, and they require less attention. However, my little doggie Mollie is the best for reminding me to stay in the moment, love with my whole heart, and play like it’s the most joyful thing ever
  5. Things to do: which is better, sing or dance? That’s another hard one, since I do neither well LOL. I guess sing, since it is less taxing on my COPD lungs
  6. Are you always early or terminally late? Early. Always.
  7. What is your favorite book you read as a child? Um, probably the nursery rhyme book we had in the living room. There was one little rhyme about a purple cow that I loved. “I never saw a purple cow/I never hope to be one/but if there were a purple cow/I’d rather see than be one”
  8. What is your all-time favorite joke? “What’s grosser than gross? Eating a rump roast and it farts!” (sorry, inside I’m really just a 12 year old boy or something, farts are funny)
  9. Who is the funniest person you know? Hands down, Sunshine. That man can make me laugh until my abdominal muscles hurt and my lungs feel like they’re going to deflate explosively
  10. What is your favorite word? Probably motherfucker. I actually had a drug-court treatment plan, signed by a judge, that read “I will not use the word motherfucker in any variation in group therapy sessions for two weeks”. (The judge read it, raised an eyebrow, looked at my counselor; she replied “Your honor, I assure you that it’s necessary” and he signed it. And yes, that is the entirety of the treatment plan for that two week period.)
  11. What is your least favorite word? apathy. I hate the word, I hate what it means, I hate that it manifested itself in my life for the last few years. Hence the depression and anxiety treatments that led me to choose “recovery” as my one word description.

final note: I can’t think of 11 people to nominate right now, I’m so busy trying to get laundry and food preservation caught up that I almost forgot I had been selected for this challenge. Again, thank you to Nusrath for tagging me!

Laundry day

It’s laundry day here in the buttfuck middle of nowhere. I didn’t do any laundry last week. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch.

Sunshine was out of town, so there wasn’t as much getting dirtied up around here. Well, nothing much except kitchen towels and rags. I pulled most of my kitchen towels and rags from their designated spot to hang until laundry day (so they don’t mold and mildew in the hamper and ruin actual clothes). The upside is that now I know what happened to all my kitchen rags and towels.

Sunshine got home Friday night, and brought a week’s worth of dirty​ clothes home. I managed to get all of that thrown in the wash​ yesterday morning before work, and he got them dried and put away for me. He can be so awesome sometimes.

This morning, I decided that it was time to do laundry and clean my house because OMGWTF it’s really bad.

When I went to pull the dirty laundry out of the hamper, I found clothes that had been dirty for so long I forgot I owned them.

side note: y’all probably think I’m joking. I’m totally not. I found shirts and pants I forgot I owned. I’m so fucking pathetic.

I threw all the laundry into the middle of the living room floor and started sorting it. Here is how my sorting process went down this morning.

Does it have a zipper? If yes, it goes in this pile. Apparently, things with zippers is a laundry sorting category now. Because I don’t want the zippers on those pants I forgot I owned to be snagging and ruining those tops I forgot I owned.

The next question I asked myself was “is it black or almost black?” That took care of almost half of the rest of the dirty clothes. Apparently, Sunshine and I favor a similar color palette in our clothes. Black, and almost black. For me, almost black can include many shades of grey and blue; for Sunshine, it includes shades of black, faded black, and denim.

The last question I asked myself was “will the bleach cleaners in these rags fuck up it up and make me cry?” If bleach spots on something wouldn’t make me cry, it went into the last pile. There are many shades of white, grey, and off-white; and none of it will be irreparably harmed by any sort of cleaning chemicals. I saved this load for last so I could clean the bathroom and put the rags in that load.

Sunshine had a full load in yesterday, and I have at least three loads today. Why in hell did I let it get like this? I’m kind of thinking I didn’t. The fucking laundry hamper was only 1/3 full when Sunshine got home late Friday, so I’m blaming it on him.

Now, I should probably go clean the bathroom. Because eeewwwwwwwwww.