Over at Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Blueberry Pudding Cake this week. One of us loved it, one of us did not, go read about it. Also, I made Individual Cream Cheese Danish for yesterday’s post.
Also, Fred has started up blogging again – not at Vituperation, but somewhere else entirely. I’m trying to convince him to put up some of his old stuff, but he’s not inclined to do that just yet – probably because he’s been so busy working outside. There are lots of pictures of the garden over there (and more pictures of the garden over at Love & Hisses today, too).
So after I announced that I was going off the estrogen patch, I did – I went off it completely, just ripped that bitch off my hip and tossed it in the trash and didn’t replace it with another one. Then about a week went by, and around the one-week mark, I turned into a total raving, irrational bitch. Here’s the thing about going off of hormones: you shouldn’t do it all at once, because the huge fluctuation in hormones will make you come very close to going on a shooting rampage. You need to step down off the patch slowly.
I went back ON the patch, and then last week I began the slow, slow, ever-so-slow stepdown off the patch. I went from an entire patch to half a patch, and when I’ve done that for a month I’ll go down to 1/4 patch and then after a month I will take that bitch off.
“But you’re so mellow when you’re on the estrogen,” Fred said sadly.
He fails to remember that before I went ON the estrogen patch, I was perfectly fine. No hot flashes, no moodiness, and then I had to listen to my stupid gynecologist, and I went back on the goddamn thing.
Let’s reiterate: the ONLY reason I went back on the estrogen is because the gynecologist thought I should because of my age. Not because I was having any issues, just because of my age. With a family history of breast cancer, that is a dangerously stupid old-school knee-jerk line of thought, and I’m a dumbass for listening to it.
All of this is to say that I am about a week into the step-down off the estrogen patch, and I’m a teeny bit irritable. I knew I would be, and it’s not bad – I’m not screaming at the computer at the top of my lungs, and I haven’t threatened my iPod’s life, and have you noticed here that it’s mostly the electronic things that drive me to the brink of violent insanity? If only there was a solution. I wonder how the electronics in this house would like a swim in the pond.
So yesterday I got up and I said to myself “Oh, it rained last night. I’m not going to work in the garden because it’ll be all MUDDY. I am ever so sad that I can’t work in the garden today (NOT), I guess I’ll go run that shitload of errands I’ve been putting off.”
The biggest errand that I’d been putting off is taking stuff to the recycling center. Here in the country, we don’t have a recycling truck that comes around and collects our recycling (O Madison, it is times like this that I miss you terribly). I let it collect in the garage until I can’t stand it any longer (usually 2 – 3 weeks), and then I pile it all into my car and head for the recycling center.
I arrived at the recycling center, and there were several other people there, so I parked at the end of the row of dumpsters, and I started tossing plastic into the plastic dumpster, etc.
Some guy came wandering along as I was pulling a bag out of the back of my car, and he looked at my car.
“The birds have been using your car as a bathroom,” he pointed out. I nodded. There’s lots of bird shit on my car.
“You must park under a tree,” he said.
“I do,” I said.
“That’s very very bad for your paint job,” he said disapprovingly.
I ignored him and went about my business, but I will tell y’all that I kind of wanted to rip his head off and shit down his throat. Because, um, FUCK YOUR MOTHER YOU NOSY MOTHERFUCKER AND MIGHT I ASK WHO THE FUCK ASKED YOUR OPINION ABOUT MY FUCKING CAR?
When he realized he wasn’t going to engage me in a conversation about my car and how I am a terrible car owner for parking MY own fucking car under A FUCKING TREE because apparently this affects his life a great deal, he continued on to a truck that was parked at the other end of the row of dumpsters. And he sat there, and he watched me as I put all my recycling in the dumpsters. I was just waiting for him to be so overcome with the fact of my careless treatment of my car (MY car, you know, the car he is not responsible for in any way, and if the bird shit burns holes in my car, I won’t be coming to him to buy me a new one? Yeah, that car.) and to get out of his truck to make it SUPER clear that bird shit is bad for my paint job. He didn’t, though, he just stayed there and watched me.
Now, THAT isn’t creepy, is it? He stayed there when I left, so maybe he was hoping someone would come along who would be properly shamed by the fact that they park their own car under a tree and let the birds shit on it.
(I see y’all dying to tell me how bad that is for my car’s paint job, and let me say (1) I don’t care, (2) If it bothers you so much, feel free to come wash my car, and (3) Because my side of the garage is taken up with gym equipment, that’s why I don’t park in the garage.)
Then I continued on to Walmart, where I bought three big containers of Cat’s Pride Fresh & Light litter. (What’s that? What is my current kitty litter regimen? I’m so glad you asked! See, about every three weeks or so, I scrub down the litter boxes, and then I refill them with fresh litter. And I use THREE kinds of litter – a thin layer of Fresh Step on the bottom, a thick layer of Cat’s Pride on top of that, and on the very top, a thin layer of Cat Attract. It works well for me, but your mileage may vary.)
I went to the “20 items or fewer” lane – it being early, Walmart wasn’t very busy – and the cashier rang up the first box of litter. She looked at me. She rang up the second box of litter. She looked at me. She rang up the third box of litter. She looked at me.
“How many cats do you HAVE?” she asked, and it wasn’t a friendly question, like she was asking how many cats I had so she could tell me about her cat(s). It was a “Clearly you’re batshit nuts over cats. Just how batshit nuts ARE you?” tone. It was a “Tell me how many cats you have, so my coworkers can talk about the loon with three hundred cats.” tone.
I thought of several responses – “WHY THE FUCK IS IT ANY BUSINESS OF YOURS?!” being the first one and the one I wanted most to say – but I just smiled at her in a “I do not understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.” way. She clearly thought about asking again, but let it go.
I had more errands to run, but I was concerned enough about my mood that I was afraid I’d end up in jail for assault (I needed to pick up a prescription at the grocery store pharmacy, but MAN I do NOT LIKE the kid who works at that pharmacy, I DO NOT LIKE HIM so much that I transferred all my prescriptions to the pharmacy down the road so I’d never have to see his stupid face again, but this prescription was for Fred. I’m going to have to strongly insist that Fred transfer his prescriptions, too, because that kid who works at the pharmacy? DO NOT LIKE. Did I mention?) before the day was through, so I just came home, sat my ass on the couch, and caught up on my junk TV.
I read this article about couples who sleep in separate bedrooms and whether it’s good or bad for a marriage.
First of all, for fuck’s sake. Can we agree that there’s no one answer? Some couples NEED to sleep in the same bed, other couples NEED not to. One’s not better than the other, no matter what the “experts” say.
Also, I like this:
YES! The time before we fall asleep, when we talk in bed or make love, is the MOST precious time of my whole entire day. I wouldn’t change it for the world!
Well, shit. I didn’t know that you had to sleep the entire night in the same bed to accomplish those goals! For fuck’s sake.
FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
(Yes, this is me “mildly irritable.” Who am I trying to kid?)
Fred barely gets five hours of sleep a night as it is. If he and I slept in the same bed, I doubt he’d get nearly that much sleep. And I prefer to stay up past 9:05 PM. So when he toddles off to bed, I turn my light on and I watch stuff on my iPod or I catch up on my Words with Friends games, or I read, or whatever the fuck my little heart desires.
But as part of our nighttime routine, we lay in bed for half an hour or so before he goes off to his own room. OMG! Alert the presses! You can lay down and talk or WHATEVER and then NOT sleep in the same bed? My god! I need to patent this idea!
This does not hold true for every married couple, of course, but I’ve noticed that generally people who’ve been married for a year or less are HORRIFIED at the idea of sleeping in separate rooms. I can’t do that! I couldn’t possibly spend the night without being able to reach out and touch the love of my liiiiiiiiiiiiife! On the other hand, couples who’ve been married for more than a couple of years will generally say something along the lines of “I wish I had MY own room!”
I think Fred would agree with me on this: everyone should have their own room if they want. Humans are not meant to sleep in the same bed, because humans are annoying fucking creatures who snore and grind their teeth and flail around and try to take up the whole bed and steal the blankets or toss all the blankets on top of the other person, and OH how the list goes on.
Really, in the end, I don’t give much of a shit whether you sleep in the same bed as your partner or alone or with 300 cats or a big stanky dog or in a tent in the middle of your back yard or whatever, and I imagine you don’t give much of a shit about how we sleep, either, aside from the general interest of the story.
But then, I imagine an article entitled “Who gives a shit whether you people sleep in separate rooms or not?” probably wouldn’t have the same must-read-this impact as “SLEEPING SEPARATELY: DOES IT DESTROY YOUR MARRIAGE? EXPERTS SAY IT MIGHT!”
FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
Previously
2011: We just may have a decent garden this summer after all!
2010: One thing y’all do not know about Fred And3rson is that when it comes toward clothing, he gravitates toward the bright, flamboyant colors.
2009: No entry.
2008: One of the many things I don’t get: sour cream.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: WHERE’S THE SENSE?
2004: ”It’s HOT in the SOUTH in the SUMMER?! You don’t say!”
2003: No entry.
2002: I hope you’re planning on marking the occasion with style and panache, people.
2001: And so on until it’s lunchtime and I’m so excited at the thought of Lime Jello for dessert (it being Tuesday and all) that I hang up on her and go hobbling out to the lunchroom with all the other old people.
2000: Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.
haha! AWESOME. Why have I been away so much? SIMMER DOWN, LADY.
OK The guy at the recycle center was definitely a creep. I would have been seriously pissed off at that cashier at Walmart and I’ve been married for 30+ years and sometimes wish I had my own room!
Oh Jeanette, it gets worse: I went back today because I needed more litter. Today. Friday. The day before a holiday weekend. AT NOON. What a nightmare!
Um. So was the same cashier checking you out when you went back for more litter? And how’s your mood today? 😉
I was in a GOOD mood before I went to Walmart! 🙂 Wasn’t the same cashier, though, and that place was packed. Every time I step foot in Walmart past 8 am, I remind myself to NEVER do that again. The one up the road is an especially busy one. Ugh!
Agree on the creepiness of the guy at the recycle place. He was probably just stunned that a gorgeous powerful woman like you was doing recycling and her staff was not taking care of it. Whenever I am doing the recycling (I take it to the dumpster thingies at the grocery store parking lot) or am washing out the litter boxes, I always do a glamour test. I ask myself if Jackie Kennedy ever did whatever the hell I am doing. Usually the answer is NO and I am reassured that my life is , in fact, not glamourous.
Between my early to rise hours for work, my snoring, hubbies leg spasms and snoring, we would never get any sleep if we did not use separate rooms. It is a sleep thing and has nothing to do with your relationship. I also have a separate bathroom. Now that is glamour!
I actually have my own bathroom too, now that I think about it! I just wish my bathroom (hell, either of the bathrooms!) had an awesome tub meant for long baths. That’s on my glamorous, glamorous wish list. 😉
God I love it when you post over here at the old blog. Rant on!
I second this motion, for fuck’s sake! 😀
OH ! Yes and can I get a halle-fucking-lujah???
LOL!
A-fucking-men!
Also: Glad the irritability thing is not just me. Although my Mood is not because of the estrogen patch, but rather because of my oncoming period. Where by “oncoming” I mean “any time between tomorrow and three weeks from now.” PMS this month started less than two days after my last period ended, and I had about 3 days of normality (i.e., no PMS or period) the time before that. A whopping 48 hours of “being normal” every month? “Yay.” But I’m afraid to get a hysterectomy, because it might be even WORSE, and I shudder to even imagine that.
With regard to sleep, everyone needs to just do their own thing. If there’s a sudden change in the dynamic with no good explanation? Fine, worry. Otherwise? Do whatever lets you get the most, and best, sleep, because I am here as a witness to testify that poor sleep = psychological misery.
For fuck’s sake is right, Robyn. Just reading about all these annoying encounters you’ve had lately makes me want to go on a shooting rampage, myself. And I’m not adjusting my estrogen levels, so maybe it isn’t just you and your hormones. Maybe all the people are being assholes right now.
>>“That’s very very bad for your paint job,” he said disapprovingly.<<
"Yeah, and pissing me off is VERY VERY BAD for your life expectancy, Fucker!"
Your response to the inappropriately nosy Wal-Mart cashier was perfection. Much less problematic than beating her brains out and she still shut up so WIN!
FFS, it's hard enough for some of us to get the sleep we need without these "experts" telling us we're doing it wrong. What makes anyone a marriage expert? I've been married 23 years (July) and I don't know a damned thing about marriage except that we can't be forced to testify in court against each other (at least, criminally). That's really all I need to know, most days.
And isn’t that the most important thing, after all? 🙂
Ya know, we’ve been married 30 years and have had separate rooms for all but 5 or 6 of those years. We both love having our own rooms. The first time we separated to sleep was because I was recovering from surgery that left me in a lot of pain. It took only one or two nights of sleeping in the same bed again for us to decide we liked sleeping alone.
Plus, there’s no guest room for relatives who “need a place to stay.”
My favorite part of this entry is the link to the 2000 entry titled “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck” like it’s a big old giant say it once more with feeling! For what it’s worth, I stopped having periods a year ago and didn’t do anything with hormone replacement and have had zero problems. Nature adjusts!
I think it would have been funny if you had replied to the checker “What do you mean?? I don’t have any cats….” 🙂 I used to get asked that question when I would buy out the store of a particular flavor of cat food for my dear old kitty. They were shocked that I had just one.
I agree! You should say to the cashier, “What cats? I save millions of gallons of water a year, by not flushing! What are you doing to save the environment?” That cashier will never ask anyone about their cats again!
HAAAAAAA – I’m going to keep this in mind for next time!!
Immensely enjoying the rant as well.
I agree recycle guy was creepy. My husband is an auto body painter/tech/manager and he lets the bird shit sit on our cars until the rain washes it off sometimes too. My boss the head mechanic at my last job used to lecture me about it too. He was a heavy drink and I used the think, “And you should be kinder to your liver, pal.” No adult enjoys being lectured to especially by nosy strangers. I agree with devil you won without getting your BP raised with the nosy cashier.
My husband has a Hate/Hate relationship with the Nurse Practitoner at his surgeon’s office. She reminds me of Bailey on Grey’s Anatomy. She got snarky over him asking her to call the pharmacy because he couldn’t remember his pain med dose. She told him she wasn’t his mother and had no time to do that. Then she said I must be a saint to put up with him. It was true and funny but not to him. OY he was ranting about her first thing Monday morning when we had to go up there. Mistakes have been made by residents. It really is like being in a Grey’s Anatomy episode being in a large University teaching hospital. A Dr. from another department calmed him down and he behaved. I love that doctor! My husband was all, “We’ll just go elsewhere.” Nope with rare cancer there is no elsewhere. You have to make it work. I don’t want to complain to patient relations unless it becomes absolutely necessary. Not good to alienate the people whose help you need. I pack up ALL the pills every time now. I feel like he is the hormonal one but I guess the big C and treatment side effects gives him the right to be crabby. I just hate it when I’m in the middle of one of his meltdowns! Between that and referrals and appointments and some friends’ serious problems with asshole kids it’s been very interesting around here lately too! I keep thinking if someone really pisses me off I will go to jail because if I were to unload the bottled up rage I feel over all of this it would be deadly!
Annette.
Let that rage out here. We can take it. My heart goes out to you for what you are going through right now.
Thank You.
Ugh, Annette, I hate that you’re having to go through this. Catsy’s right, you should definitely think of this as your safe space!
Thanks, Robyn <3<3<3<3
What would the “experts” say about me?? My husband sleeps on the sofa (we only have one bedroom), AND our toddler sleeps in the bed with me! We’re doomed! DOOOOOMED!
I was at the store the other day stocking up on cat food. The girl said something like “You have a lot of cat food.” And I said “They’re kind of picky.” She said “FIFTY?? You have FIFTY cats?!!” I said, “No, they’re picky.” I told her I had three and they all liked something different. (It seems like I run the Hometown Buffet for cats, sometimes!) 😀
Robyn…..tell us how you REALLY feel!
😉
Now that’s what I’m talking about. A Crooked Acres Thursday post at one blog, and a low-estrogen-fueled rant at the other! It’s a Daily Double!
I WISH we could have separate bedrooms. You sound like I feel when PMS’ing. Not fun.
SO funny ! (from this side of the coin) I did the ‘step down” thing 20 years ago. You may need to step down more slowly, giggle,snort. And I think everybody needs a room (or 6) of their own.
My household is one bedroom, 2 beds… You know what I’d like? MY OWN DAMN HOME OFFICE. We share an office and frankly, there are days I am ready to take my laptop and go into a closet because I just need the alone time. (But not TOO alone, I want the internet in there with me…)
I miss you so muuuuch! mildly irritable my ass! haha!!!
My husband and I have slept in seperate rooms for more than half of our marriage. I wouldn’t want it any other way! We still have “cuddle” time and it all seems normal to us. In fact, NONE of the married couples in our family share a bedroom. It does make planning a family vacation a little difficult because no one wants to share a room!
Next time you are asked about your kitty litter purchase just explain to them that you are a foster mom for Challenger’s House! Maybe you can get someone to donate food or supplies!
“20 items or fewer” lane *giggle* day-um , you are edumacated! 😉
I likes to use my fancy words. 😛
Been married more than thirty years, and about fifteen in we started sleeping in separate bedrooms … mostly due to work schedules and also that my husband has bad sleep apnea, and his CPAP bothers me. I love having my own room! I love sleeping alone and hogging the whole bed and staying up late reading or going to sleep early in a dark room with the window open and the fan blowing on me. Love love love it. Love my husband, too!
The few people I have mentioned it to seem genuinely horrified. It’s as if we suffer from some kind of deviant personality disorder something. So I just don’t tell anyone. We have four bedrooms, no kids at home anymore … why the hell should we be stuffed into one bedroom anyway? And whose business is it?
Isn’t it weird. Our marriage has lasted longer (30 years in September) than most people we know, yet they’re sure our marriage is on the rocks because we don’t sleep in the same bed. My dear departed MIL was sure more people would remain happily married if they had separate bedrooms.
It’s kind of crazy, the idea that people have to sleep in the same bed OR ELSE. If you can’t be comfortable when you’re sleeping, when can you?!
We also sleep separate. Me in bed, him on the couch or wherever his insomnia takes him. What I would really like is my own livingroom. Or maybe an office so the computer could be in there and he could be on the internet and I could be reading without him reading the internet to me. What the fuck, seriously. I’m sitting in my chair trying to read 50 Shade of Grey and he’s reading the damn internet to me for 2 hours! It would only benefit him to SHUT HIS PIEHOLE and let me read my dirty book for fucks sake!
Dude. DUDE. When I’m trying to read something and Fred insists on reading something to me or show me a video, oh it drives me nuts. It also drives him nuts when I do it to him. 😀
My dad does this thing where he not only reads it aloud to you, he moves the mouse cursor along underneath whatever it is he’s reading. This gets him confused when he moves the mouse too quickly or accidentally scrolls, and meanwhile me and my mom, reading over his shoulder, are already two pages ahead of him.
Last time he had us come in to look at something one of his friends had sent (a bunch of LOLcats, all quite dated), my mom slapped him in the back of the head four times trying to make him stop. He’d stop for a few seconds, but then he just couldn’t trust that we, the two biggest readers in the entire family, would be capable of reading the captions ourselves unless he moved the cursor over each word, read it aloud to us, and then explained why it was funny. And he wonders why we pretend not to hear him…
Oh good lord, that would drive me NUTS. Fred tends to overexplain stuff to me, but he’ll laugh when I say “No, I don’t understand that simple concept. Can you explain it to me yet again?”
At the risk of getting my head bitten off, can I just say that I enjoy reading here when you are slightly irritable?
Quick litter story for you: A couple of years ago, we were in the middle of a move and I was BEYOND irritated with people and their nosy questions. I was buying a bunch of litter to stock up before the move and a cashier asked me how many cats I had. The answer was 2, but I was so annoyed that I looked her dead in the eye and answered, “20.” Then I continued to make eye contact until she was really embarrassed and dropped her eyes. Not my proudest moment, but it still makes me laugh.
Since Walmart got into a bit of a tizzy a few years ago with the litter my cats adore, I have been extra careful to stock up as much as I can.
(Back story: It’s a silicon-crystal litter, and California had an issue with the “reduces bacteria” claim on the packaging, so until they could get the packaging sorted to California’s liking, no Walmarts in California could sell it – so to avoid any confusion, they pulled it from ALL the Walmarts. It’s about half the price of the other crystal litters, and my cats lost their shit when I had to suddenly switch them to a new brand and/or style of litter. The brand I get is also better at odor control than any of the more expensive crystal litters I’ve tried; better AND cheaper? No-brainer. Plus it doesn’t weigh a ton, so I can do litter box duty even when my back is out.)
It comes to the store in cartons of 8; most days when I go to the store, I will buy all the bags they have on the shelf, and then ask if they have another carton or two in the back, and buy that as well. It’s not uncommon for me to buy more than 20 bags at once. A few times, I have had a cashier ask me how many cats I have, and I’ve been able to honestly and without malice answer, “I just like to stock up.”
After reading about your encounter with the cashier, though, I think I would amend that to: “I just like to stock up, since that means I don’t have to come in here so frequently and deal with nosy-ass, poorly-raised people asking me intrusive and obnoxious questions that are none of their fucking business in the first place.” Then smile beatifically and comment on the lovely weather. Argh.
You know, every time I’m in Walmart and see the crystal litter, it makes me think of you. I’m not even kidding! 🙂
Re: stocking up, my friend (in Nevada) and I (in California) like Bon Ami cleanser. It used to be in all the supermarkets, then it disappeared. The last time I found it was in a 99 cent store, where I bought the six cans on the shelf and asked if they had more. They didn’t. Now we’re both down to our last can. I even looked online, where I could buy it for over $3 a can. Don’t think so! And the store locator at bonami.com didn’t show it being sold anywhere in southern Cal or near Vegas. But yesterday I was hanging out while my cat was having his teeth cleaned at PetSmart (DO NOT EVER TAKE YOUR PET TO BANFIELD AT PETSMART!!) because I wanted to bring him home the minute he was out of the anesthetic and I found Bon Ami at the nearby Stater Bros supermarket. I bought all they had – six for me, six for Nevada, and the remaining four for another friend. The clerk who checked me out wasn’t offensive, but he did say, “You know, we always carry this.” Yeah, Vons and Albertsons, the supermarkets by my house, always carried it too — until they didn’t! I’m amazed by people who are appalled by the idea of stocking up. It’s not like kitty litter or Bon Ami cleanser is going to go bad! 🙂