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Monthly Archives: March 2014

Observations and Conversations

I had way too much fun over the weekend to bother with laundry and what with this and that and going to the dog park, but Wednesday night it was too late to even consider. It had to get done last night or I’d be going to work commando today.

So I set out into the rain, two baskets in the back seat. Had to stop at Crap-Mart to get some laundry soap and as I was wheeling the cart to the register I looked over my potential purchases and wondered what conclusions people would draw about my life. You know, how you do in a crowded mega store.

Electric razor. Laundry soap and Oxy-Clean. Ginormous box of scoopable cat litter. What? It was on sale. Six cans of cat food. Friskies because the Little Prince will only eat Friskies, the fish flavors, shreds, not pate. A mat that promises to keep the litter in the vicinity of the box.

Conclusion? Crazy cat lady with mounds of dirty laundry and hairy legs. Great. Thank god I’d skipped the cookie sale!

After lugging my purchases to the car and lugging the laundry into Spin City (the only game in town) I got started. The laundry had already been sorted and I popped the two burlap bags into a top loader before anyone could object (rug hooking!!) and was loading up three front loaders, minding my own business, lost in a daydream and eager to get back to my book, when a woman tapped me on the shoulder, nearly causing me to scream.

Is it just me, or does everyone generally avoid eye contact at the laun-dro-mat? I tend to shove the dirty stuff into the machines, eager to get them going so no one can make judgements about my clothes or the dirt on them. I’m probably just paranoid, but it feels too intimate for people to be looking at my clothes, all limp and dirty like that. Anyway.

“I don’t know if you’ve used these machines before,” the woman said, “but don’t put the soap in until you’ve started the machine or it will just run out and not stay in with the clothes.” Followed by a long-winded explanation about how I should add the soap and some other nonsense that was totally necessary. Granted, I was wearing rain clothes, but I’m pretty sure she could see I was female, and not young, so how could she think I didn’t know how to do my own laundry? I thanked her for the heads-up and shook my head as she walked away.

La la la la la. The clothes go round and round. The soap bubbles up. The water isn’t too dirty, but then again, I hadn’t loaded the machines up to capacity, either.

Another woman approaches.

“What made you choose these machines?” she asked. At my confused look, she went on. “I always thought those were dryers and I’ve always used the top loaders. I just never paid attention before!” This was not a young woman, but a middle aged woman like myself – she HAD to have done this before.

She went on to explain that she had a washer and dryer at home but was having problems with the washer drain and had to come to Spin City to wash.

I told her that I chose the larger machines because I was washing fabric and felting sweaters – the clothes were an added bonus to save time. There! That made me sound all Artsy and Sophisticated instead of a loser who doesn’t have a washer and dryer at home.

“Oh! You’re crafty? You’re washing fabric?”

“Yep. I sew & quilt, knit and spin and lots of other stuff and regular washers just don’t do the job when you’re washing yardage.”

She lost interest at that point and wandered off about the time the Cleaner Boy arrived. He is tall, with a really bad haircut. He has the braying voice of a redneck who thinks if he only talks loud enough he’ll sound smart. That’s a cruel thing to say, but I lived in his town and let me tell you, the natives are a little…let’s just say…inbred…and leave it at that.

He asked a million questions of everyone, trying to engage us, but really, we’re here to get a job done and go home, not have a conversation. Finally everyone was gone but me and the homeless drunk guy who acted like he was moving in for the night.

Cleaner Boy just wouldn’t leave me alone. I asked for a rag to wipe out the top loader I used (burlap sheds horribly the first time it gets washed) and evidently that means we’re now BFFs. He started asking questions and it came out that I have a dog. He leaned in conspiratorially. “If your dog is in the car, after these people leave you can bring her inside – it’s okay while I’m here…”

Yeaaaaahhh. Thank god I left her at home! Dude was getting way too cozy.

Finally, everything was dry and I was packed up to get out of there.

“Do you know the time?” I asked my new BFF.

“8:30”

“Oh, crap! I gotta go!”

Cleaner Boy carried one of my baskets out to the car, said, “have a great night, Ma’am,” and loped off in the rain.

Anyone else notice that laun-dro-mats are like casinos? No clocks. The mesmerizing sound of the machines. You plug quarters in the slots until you have no more, snap out of a haze and realize how much time you’ve lost. The only thing missing is free drinks…

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2014 in right?, You're kidding

 

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Share Your World – Week 12

I have no idea where the days are going. I’m told that it’s Wednesday, so it must be time for another installment of Share Your World brought to you by Cee’s Photography.

This week’s questions and answers:

What is your most favorite smell/scent?

Lavender would be a top contender, but I don’t often scent my home or body. Hmmm…I should buy some perfume. I used to wear perfume but the narc claimed allergies and I stopped years ago. Might be a good pick-me-up.

How do you write: computer, longhand or other?

Computer. Finding a blank piece of paper and a working pen takes way too long. I’m a bit…disorganized…right now.

Your favorite blog post that you have written? (add link)

There are a few. More Insanity and After the Yelling perfectly describe what it’s like to live with a narcissist in a towering rage. I Hate Curry is a great example of the things they do to make their victims’ lives miserable and has been the number one draw to this blog. My personal favorite would have to be Was it only Yesterday, the post about my first day away from the narc.

What’s one of your favorite books from childhood?

I devoured books as soon as I learned to read, but none of them stand out at the moment.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I’m grateful that the Friday and Saturday I was afraid was going to go sideways didn’t go too off the rails and to Awana for coming over and making the rest of the weekend fun. I’m looking forward to getting the laundry done and the trailer cleaned up – this weekend will be all about bringing order where there is currently chaos and making some forward progress on the Fiber Stuff. There may be some major changes coming in the near future that I need to be ready for. More on that if/when it happens, but it’s all Good News!

 
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Posted by on March 26, 2014 in Memes, Share Your World

 

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The Lawnmower Incident

When I arrived home after work on Thursday, Walt was mowing in front of Towanda. The grass was too wet to be mowed (but don’t ever try to tell HIM that) and was clumping up into those piles that stick to your shoes, to be carried inside and all over the fucking place no matter what you do, but that’s beside the point.

The smell of the fresh cut grass brought to mind an incident that happened the Spring before I left the narc.

I’ve said before that he lost his left leg below the knee and lost much of the use of his lower right leg. Walking over uneven ground was problematic and the yard was very uneven, making mowing a slow and painful process for him.

Because of all his moaning and belly-aching I took over mowing duties soon after I moved to The Coast. I was never able to do the job to his satisfaction or on his time table. It got worse when I started working and didn’t get home until close to dark – too late to get the job done, IMO, but he was in a lather because it was a fraction of an inch longer than the neighbor’s and that could not be tolerated – Narcland must be well groomed at all times.

On this particular day I had worked an eight hour shift on my feet on a concrete floor. I was tired and not in the mood to mow the lawn. It was close to dark anyway and could have waited another day. But, no. He got the mower out after telling me how painful it was going to be for him and how it was MY responsibility to do this job, blah, blah, blah. I decided to use my time wisely (IE in a way that might not earn me a lecture about how I was sitting on my ass while he was “working”) and was pulling weeds in the garden.

He made the first pass in front of the house, and being an arrogant man, he ran the mower too close to the house and broke off the hose bib that sat next to the front door. Water began to spray everywhere.

He screamed in frustration and ran inside to turn off the supply. While he did that, I moved the lawnmower so it wouldn’t get any more wet than it already was. I knew I was in for a tirade and it wasn’t long in coming.

You see, it was MY fault he ran over the hose bib. My working was a HUGE problem because chores around the house weren’t getting done. The yard “looked like a bunch of renters” were living there, renters being the lowest form of life in the narc’s opinion. Of course, the flip-side was that he was desperate for an income and the only way we could have that income was for me to work, him being too disabled to do Real Work.* I had to take whatever job I could get, and the hours that went along with it, just to get him to shut the fuck up about money. Scratch that. He never shut up about money, just changed his rants.

So now the water is turned off to the house, the narc is in a rage and it’s time for me to start dinner. Great.

The narc went into the back room to rummage for plumbing parts to see if he could find a solution. He could not. I suggested he could drive into town and see if what he needed could be found at Fred Meyer – the only likely source after 5:00 PM.

He came back about an hour later saying he’d had no luck. And now he’s hungry and the lectures begin. I don’t remember what I made for dinner that night, but I do remember being chastised because I hadn’t finished mowing the lawn while he was gone. He reamed me for having put some of my “crap” too near the board on the floor that covered the gaping hole that led to the water shut-off when it was actually HE who put stuff there and it wasn’t even exclusively “mine,” proving once again that narcs and their ilk always read from the same script.

The water was off for two days while he tried to get parts to make the repair (he had “more important” things to do first) and he lectured me on my irresponsibility, slovenly ways, uncaring attitude, whining (that was all him,) and lack of concern for what was A Real Problem.

What would I have done if he hadn’t been there? Feeling bitchy after another morning with no shower I replied, “I wouldn’t have sheared the hose bib off in the first place!” which didn’t win me any points but felt satisfying at the time.

I mean, really. The whole incident was a farce. I have no doubt he deliberately ran the damn thing over to Show Me What Could Go Wrong and “prove” how superior he is.

When he finally got the water back on I said nothing, hoping the incident would just go away and I could unclench my jaw. It came up again when the water bill arrived – MY irresponsibility was the cause of the price hike and he made very sure I understood my role in his little drama. I handed over the extra funds without a word because I was waking up to his games and knew it was only a matter of time before I left for good.

What an asshole. And how depressing that the smell of fresh cut grass should instantly call this memory up from the depths of my brain.

* Funny how he could work on his projects all day, though – outside in all weather, long hours bent over a boat, sanding and painting, or carting materials up and down the yard, hoisting things onto and off of trailers and a long list of other things. The problem was that he was unable to take direction from anyone else because he believes there is no one on earth more intelligent or capable than he is. How dare anyone tell him what to do! He just can’t stomach it. Not even for money.

 
 

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Share Your World – Week 11

Spring is here, it’s Wednesday, so it must be time for another installment of Share Your World brought to you by Cee’s Photography.

This week’s questions and answers:

If you were an ice cream cone how many scoops and flavors would you be and why?

A single scoop of deep, dark chocolate because a little of me goes a long way and you might as well make the most of it.

Are you left or right handed?

Right handed.

Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?

I used to. Now I have a list of topics I want to cover and that’s about it. Because who has time to talk on the phone if there’s no purpose?

How many rings before you answer the phone?

Two.

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

I am grateful for The Boss who gave me a laptop for my own use at no charge to make my life easier and facilitate working for The Other Boss at home – they’re taking on a joint project and I’ll be doing the drafting for both. I look forward to a rest after what is going to be a very busy weekend.

 
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Posted by on March 19, 2014 in Memes, Share Your World

 

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A Mean Drunk

Revy is feelin’ Irish tonight –

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAThe whiskey is all gone, so I offered him some rum. Sadly, he’s a Mean Drunk.

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAHe’s racing around, bouncing off the walls and knocking shit down all over the place. When is he going to get fat and lazy? Has my life been reduced to Cat Blogging?

Apparently so, because in related news, “Grandma” wants me to bring him along on my trip home next month. She has no idea what’s in store. Whatever happens it should make for some good Blog Fodder…

 
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Posted by on March 17, 2014 in Cats, Crazy, Stuff that Pisses Me Off!

 

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A tea drinker in the land of the coffee bean

Amanda asked me the other day what kind of tea I like. She orders supplies for the office and thought it would be nice if the office bought me some tea since they supply the coffee and fixin’s for the rest of the office. Oh, sure, there are usually some dusty “tea”bags* up in the cupboard, but I generally bring my own because I’m picky that way.

Darjeeling is my favorite,” I replied.

Total blank look. “I have no idea what that is…”

“It’s a type of black tea, grown in India…” I cut off my explanation because she doesn’t care** and won’t remember anyway. “English Breakfast is another good choice…”

“I’ll see what I can find online,” she said and skipped off.

I forgot about it until last week when she said to me, “Sofia! I ordered tea for you!” with a smile that ensured I would have to be on my best behavior or risk crushing her into little bits.

Sigh. Indeed, she had ordered tea. Some of it is actually Camellia sinensis, but much of it is not. Was there any Darjeeling on the shelf? Nope. There is, however, a box of Devonshire English Breakfast tea. Sigh. Devonshire, Darjeeling…close right?

Don’t get me wrong – the gesture was wonderful. The execution, however…I should be used to this – coffee drinkers don’t see the point of tea and don’t bother to learn anything about it. Sigh. I get it. I don’t like it, but I am resigned.

* Herbal “tea” is not, in fact, tea – it’s an Herbal Infusion and there isn’t a bit of caffeine in it, putting it in the category of Shit I Would Never Ingest. I mean, if there’s no caffeine, what’s the point? Besides, they all make my tongue feel furry and that just sucks.

** She’s very good at her job, sweet and easy to work with, but she’s a Coffee Drinker and while she can remember the vente-mocha-foama-gross-a favorite of every employee in the office, tea means nothing to her.

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2014 in Food & Drink, right?

 

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Another battle lost…

Revy, being a smarter-than-average cat, has learned a new trick. You see, he has very definite preferences when it comes to dry food – he only wants Purina Kitten Chow. Not the organic, no colors added, all natural ingredients kibble. Not the store brand kibble. ONLY Purina Kitten Chow. The dog has had more than her fair share of rejected cat food mixed in with her Science Diet (not that she cares – she’ll eat anything) and I have agreed to feed the cat what he prefers in the interest of not giving the dog the runs.

The other day the store was out of PKC and I didn’t want to make another stop, so I brought home a bag of Purina CAT Chow. It’s not the same, obviously. In fact, it’s a personal affront if you’re Revy the RV Cat.

He was completely out of his preferred kibble, so I poured the new kibble into his bowl (which sits atop the counter in the back room. This will become relevant in a minute) and stood back, awaiting his judgement.

One sniff and he gave me the Look of Death.

“They were out of Kitten Chow. You’ll have to make do until I go to the store again. Suck it up, Princess,” I said and walked away.

He scooped all the kibble out onto the counter and ran in to tell me his bowl was empty. Again.

I put the kibble back and told him it wouldn’t kill him to eat something different for a couple of days.

He scooped it out again. I put it back. He scooped it out. And so on for two days.

On the evening of the third day I noticed the counter was clean and the bowl was empty. Revy was hungry so I filled his bowl again. He gave me the Death Stare but I was unmoved. I walked away, figuring he’d been eating it and probably wouldn’t starve before I could get to the store.

A little while later, I was sitting on the couch knitting a hat when I heard crunching noises. A quick look around revealed that the dog was not in the room. More crunching noises.

I heaved a big sigh and took myself off to the back room where I beheld an amazing sight.

Revy was perched on the counter, a mess of dry kibble all around, his empty dish behind him. Sabu was sitting in front of the counter, looking attentively at the cat. If that doesn’t strike fear into the heart of a dog owner, I don’t know what will!

Revy gave me the Death Stare, reached out his little white paw, flung a single cat kibble onto the floor and sat back to watch the show. Sabu pounced on the kibble, crunched it down in two bites, sat again and looked expectantly at the cat.

Right. That explains why the counter was so clean – seems Sabu has been putting her front feet up there and licking the counter, scraping all the dried kibble up and licking out Revy’s bowl. All with full agreement from that damned cat! How long has this been going on? Why did I not notice sooner? WTF?

You know what I did? I went to the store and came home with a bag of PKC, that’s what I did, because evidently everything else is only fit to feed to the dog. What’s next?

 
40 Comments

Posted by on March 13, 2014 in Cats, Crazy, Dogs, Stuff that Pisses Me Off!

 

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