I've Been Hornschwaggled

All I wanted today was a nap. A nap to get me ready for taking Princess trick-or-treating, but my husband took one look at me all comfy and dozy on the couch and decided that he had a lot to say. And he needed to pace the floor as he said it, and take and make many phone calls too. To shut him up I made a deal with him. He wanted to know where I had hid the Halloween candy, but I would not tell him unless he promised to quit talking and let me nap. I had hid my stash in the cupboard with the healthy snacks and foods, I knew it would never be found in there. No one else in this house would be caught dead looking in there; there is not enough fat and calories in there for them. When I told him where to find it he said he could not believe he had not found it before (!), and that a blind man could have found it. He ate so much candy he said he felt ill and pissed me off by eating more. The only way I got him to leave some was by telling him he would have to go to the store for more if we ran low. Next to my healthy food cupboard the grocery store is next in line of things to be avoided at all costs. I hope the kids will understand when they get empty candy wrappers from us this year. I hope they realize the real criminal here is him and not me, and egg and t.p. his car accordingly, not mine. He said he would just turn off the lights and sit here in the dark if the candy ran out--not hard to do when you eat yourself sick on it. I thought it was the kids that you had to warn about eating too much candy and getting sick. Hmmm, makes me think of "Plop plop fizz fizz"...

Pardon My French, But...

That STINKS! I am going to find out which cat pissed on the rug in my bathroom and didn't have the basic manners to give me a heads-up about it. I walked in there to take a bath and the smell was so overpowering I almost lost consciousness while simultaneously having my hair and skinned bleached by the ammonia. I hauled all the rugs down to the laundry, sprayed air freshener and even wiped the floor with Lysol wipes. My husband lit every candle and several incense, which I hate--they give me a headache--all to no avail. What is it about the smell of cat urine that just hangs on and on and on and on? I feel like I am living in the middle of a soggy cat box and I suspect that it is my oldest cat, Flea. That fat old bitch is so lazy he probably doesn't want to go down the stairs to relieve himself. He has been torturing and abusing me for 14 years now and I have not complained, but I have to draw the line at pissing around the house, in places that we can't seem to pinpoint exactly where they are. I'm not going to say I want him gone... but if one of my babies does decide to go into the light....

May I Take Your Order?

Digging through the fridge looking for what to make for dinner I decided spaghetti sounded good to me. As I am the cook and maid and we decided that everybody could dig up their own dinner, I yelled out to my husband and Princess to see if they wanted any. They were so thankful for my thoughtfulness they started fighting over what I could make for them.
P: I want macaroni and cheese!
H: I want tacos!
P: Macaroni and cheese!
H: Tacos!
I waited for one of them to take a breath then just yelled over them that because I was making the meal, I was making spaghetti and they could eat that or make their own meal. They decided spaghetti was exactly what they were craving and thanked me for reading their minds.

Earlier I went to some home improvement stores to look at some borders for my bathroom. As I was getting ready to leave my husband told me not to get any of that "fake looking s**t". I don't care for whimsical anyway but it is my bathroom and I had something in mind for me. I would not mind others using it but they never replace toilet paper, bunch wet towels up, and if a towel falls they don't pick it up.

My husband and Princess were looking for dessert and were scandalized that I only got a small box of ice cream. They asked why I didn't go to a store on the other side of town from where I was today to get the big bucket of the kind they like.

My husband thinks his delicate skin is irritated by the laundry soap I use. Never mind that I have used it for years and he never had a problem, or that his skin is about as delicate as an armadillo's shell, I had to get him some without any fragrance or dyes and separate all his laundry out to wash, doubling my laundry.

Sometimes I wouldn't mind getting fired from this job.

Are You Stiff?

Because I am, and no, you pervert, I am not talking about anything naughty here (well, maybe, but it is a funny memory from high school; I'm sure Tilly will remember.). I must not move much at night because I wake up with as much flexibility as a steel beam. This morning Princess and I woke up late--7 am. She came in and shook me and said, "We slept late!" all panicked
because I usually get up about 2 hours earlier than that, but I just could not get to sleep last night. I was hot but without the covers it was too cold, my husband was over the line and crowding me, panting all over my pillows and heating up my side, my book was so good I didn't want to put it down, I had one nostril stuffed up and could get a good nose whistle going if I breathed just right so I amused myself with piping out tunes. Ugh, you get the point. Then when I did fall asleep I had stupid and disturbing dreams, and I obviously did not move enough (even though I had to pee about 10,000 times last night) because this morning one arm was asleep and I was walking like Frankenstein in desperate need of coffee. One of these mornings I am going to seriously hurt myself because what does not bend breaks, but until then I can always amuse myself by loudly asking my husband, "ARE YOU STIFF?!" because that is a funny memory.

A Bean By Any Other Name

All day my husband and I have been arguing a certain point. I made ham and bean soup today and he and I can not agree on what it is or should be.

He: It is ham and bean soup.
She: It is ham and bean soup.
He: You crumble up the cornbread and put it over it and eat it as one dish.
She: The cornbread goes on a separate plate and is eaten with it, as two dishes.
He: Less juice!
She: Its soup! Its supposed to be that way!
He: No, it is ham and beans.

It just keeps going around and around. I would ask what others think, but I have no hopes of any one actually voting... but if you want to, what do you think? Is it ham and bean soup or ham and bean soup, or are we both stupid?

Crack Or The Y?

I need to get more exercise. My neurologist told me that exercise is important for everyone but doubly important for people like me. I live in the pool all summer long, but winter... I have no good excuse for not exercising. I wish things like I'm tired, I'm lazy, quit shouting I'm napping, would hold water, but alas, they don't. I was trying to decide between getting a membership to the Y again or cultivating a crack addiction. I was leaning towards the crack idea for about 3 minutes, so I told my husband that I was thinking of starting a new career, one that would require different hours and possibly more diseases. I knew it would be a rough start, being in a smaller city and being a gimp--not exactly a promising beginning to my prostitute career. I had it all figured out, I would sell my body for the crack money because I don't want to sell off anything we own and I want the money that fuels my addiction to come from the sweat of my own... brow (what did you think I was going to say?). I was even practicing my "Paris Hilton" smirk for mugshots. Yes, I had it all figured out. When I told my husband my plans he asked me if that was my only choice. I am now a member of the YMCA again.

A Note About My Young Ward

Anyone who knows me knows the story of my young ward, but for those who do not know me I wanted to explain as much as I can. I have no biological children, we did foster care for about 3 years before I was diagnosed and had 9 kids that way. My young ward, as I like to refer to her because she is not my bio kid, has been with us off and on for about 1.5 years. Her parents are going through a nasty divorce with a lot of turmoil, so she is with us for the time being and will be for a while longer. I refer to her as my young ward or Princess or a bunch of other nicknames because I guard these kids' identities vigorously. If you know me and know her that is fine, but I am not willing to give up any details about her and will not post pictures of her on the internet or anywhere besides my house and maybe in Christmas cards--if I did Christmas cards. So it may sound strange to call her my young ward, but that is what I am comfortable with. I am ok with putting myself out here but not any kids--doing foster care will open your eyes to a lot of things you would rather not know sometimes, so I protect these kids like a rabid mama bear. You can mess with me but not my kids; I don't want to spend my life in prison but I will gladly if someone hurts them.