Woohoo! New season of Burn Notice starts tonight!
I ended up getting up at 5:07 (what? I looked at the clock when I rolled out of bed. Like you don’t?) yesterday morning because the kittens heard Fred moving around downstairs and started howling for some love. So I got up, gave ’em some love, and then wandered aimlessly around the house. I finally got around to straightening up my room – I’ve been piling stuff on top of the dresser for ages now. When I was done clearing off the top of my dresser, I went ahead and started going through the clothes in my dresser, pulling out some stuff to stick in the closet ’til it’s cold again, and digging shorts out of the container they’re stored in, in the closet.
I swear, this state – one week it’s, like, 50 degrees out and I’m bitching about how cold I am, and the next week it’s 97 degrees (it was NINETY-SEVEN DEGREES on Monday!) The clothes I wore two weeks ago are too damn hot to wear now. Not that I’m complaining (much), I’d rather be hot than cold, I’m just saying I could use a more gradual lead-in from the 50s to the 90s.
I rearranged the closet, and then tried on some jeans I’d stuck on a shelf to see if I liked them any more than I had. I decided to bring two pairs of jeans out of retirement, and leave the third pair on the shelf. Maybe some day I’ll love them – more likely, in 15 years I’ll say “Why am I holding on to these?!” and donate them somewhere.
Then I rearranged the other closet, which is filled with shipping supplies – boxes, bubble wrap, styrofoam peanuts, stuff like that. Hey, I have to be prepared for when the Habaneros come in and I can resume making Habanero jam!
(I will most likely wait ’til the Fall to actually start making jam, actually. In case you were wondering.)
When I was done, I looked at the windows, thought about getting out the supplies to clean them, and decided I’d done quite enough of that nonsense for the day.
I had to run out to the shelter to get supplies for the kittens, so on the way I dropped off stuff at the recycling center, then ran by the post office to check for mail since I hadn’t done so in a couple of weeks. The person who previously had that PO Box was apparently a mother, because she (I suppose it could be a man, for that matter – they’re addressed to Micheal, so I don’t know how that’s pronounced. Like Michael, or like Michelle, or some third option I’m not thinking of?) receives three or four parenting magazines and Entrepreneur magazine every month. I’d forward them to him or her, but I have no forwarding address (and I made a mental note of his/ her name, but do you think, all these hours later, I can remember what the surname was? Swear to god, if I don’t write shit down, it’s lost forever in the recesses of my brain.).
What would y’all do if you were receiving someone else’s magazines, magazines that could not be less interesting to you?
(In the interest of full disclosure, if they were Rolling Stone or US or People or something along those lines, I’d likely bring them home and read them. Since they’re Parenting and Parents and Entrepreneur, I toss them in the recycling container.)
I s’pose I could start with remembering his/ her last name next time I get one and see if I can’t locate their physical address, but I’m not holding out a lot of hope that that’ll get me anywhere.
Nothing in the PO box was for me – WOE! – and I headed for the shelter. I got there in record time, checked out the kittens (there’s a little girl kitten who is a dead ringer for Dwight, complete with an astounding amount of energy), chatted with the shelter manager for a little while, got my supplies, and then came home.
We actually had a little rain late in the afternoon (Weatherman Fred announced that that makes two days in June when we had rain), but not a lot, and the garden kind of needed it.
But alas, it made the garden wet enough that it wouldn’t really make sense for me to go out there and weed. And I think that when I report to you that I counted 23 mosquito bites on the backs of my thighs from when I weeded on Sunday and Monday, you can imagine how heartbroken I am not to go out there and weed again this morning.
Speaking of mosquitos – tell me about your favorite mosquito repellent, whether it be homemade or something you buy in the stores. What works amazingly well for you? Because these bites are driving me NUTS and I’d like to prevent any more from happening, thank you.
Such a pretty boy.
“Pipe down, Phyllis, this one is mine!”
LOVE his crooked little whiskers.
Dwight jumped over to the window sill and Creed does NOT approve.
I call this one “Princess Monkeybutt with Eye Boogers.”
Sugarbutt was laying on the bed when Miz Poo came up and lay down right next to him. On PURPOSE. I was afraid to look directly at them because I’ve never seen such a thing.
(Sugarbutt’s collar is for the electric fence in the back yard – it keeps him from wandering. Miz Poo’s collar is to prevent her from overgrooming.)
Previously
2008: I KNOW it’s just nature and instinct and all that, but it still PISSES ME OFF.
2007: That whole separating-laundry stuff is a line of bullshit perpetrated upon the American woman in an attempt to KEEP HER DOWN.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Styrofoam peanuts = pure evil.
2003: It’s got to be the hormones in the air, that’s all I can guess.
2002: No entry.
2001: We call them the Naysayers.
2000: No entry.