Home Ship Log, Day Two…
I’m going to subtitle this post: A Perfect Recipe for A Batch of Religious Solicitation Off!
Before I get to that I have to tell you this.
Honey does a lot of stuff around here, but then so do I. Heck, we do a lot of stuff together too and then there’s the stuff we do alone for our respective business as well. So it’s no wonder I’m going crazy here. I’m doing his stuff for the house, my stuff for the house, his administration stuff for his business and my business stuff AND I’m doing all the stuff we usually do together all by myself. Phew! There’s never a dull moment, I can tell you that. *shrug* I could also tell you my mother needs a personal assistant and our pooch needs a slave. Why you may ask?
Well, in regards to my mom, she can’t remember all that well. Consequently, she’s a great starter of things, but never finishes any one of them. Especially laundry. I hate laundry. As for Diva dog? Yeah, she may look like an angel, but she’s a devil who never forgets. I moved her kibble to the big pantry because I was tired of tripping over her while she stood in the kitchen with her forehead pressed against the smaller pantry door. Big mistake. A few months ago Honey loosened the door latch on that big door so my mom could easily open it. Great right? Not so much. Diva dog remembered how to open it, and for the past two days she’d been in there helping herself to kibbles and treats. *Insert an image of me hauling all the stuff back to the first cabinet in the kitchen, here* Nothing like creating extra work when you’re already swamped. *le sigh*
Okay, *que the sound of a ding-dong here*. It’s the people selling religion at that door.
This would be yesterday afternoon, and not that I have anything against religion, it’s just that if I want to have a theological discussion at any point in my life I don’t relish having one with strangers on the front steps of my home. Why? Well, for one it’s a billion degrees outside and I like my AC. Two? I’m not a big fan of someone who starts a conversation with the assumption that the belief their selling is the only one that’s valid. And three? This is a big one. I’m busy working. I mean, would they go into Bill Gates’ business headquarters and knock on his office door during work hours to speak to him like this? How about Diane Sawyer’s dressing room door, just before she goes on the air? I would place a rather large wager on the fact that they wouldn’t walk into any church on a Sunday during a sermon and interrupt in order to start a conversation like this.
*Looks right at you* Gee, the thought made me curious, you know. So I asked one of them a question when she was done giving me her spiel. (Keep in mind that I was already stressed and therefore aggravated.)
“Have you been to the offices in the surrounding area?”
The determined young woman shook her head. “No.”
She didn’t hesitate to answer, “Those are places of work.”
Exactly the opening I was waiting for. After I patiently explained how I work at home and found these kinds of disruptions distracting. I then went on to quietly vent about all the stuff I had yet to do. I brought up the laundry, the garbage, the pool, and the pooch. I spoke about my mom. About the constant barge of telemarketers who call all day long. I mentioned the copious emails waiting for me when I did get the chance to return to my desk. I complained to them about how I haven’t been able to write and I ended with how I wouldn’t bore them with the actual business I did do at home, because I’d taken up enough of their time.
There was an awkward silence and then? They turned to leave. Oh, some of them were a little confused, but hey all of them were relieved. So, in terms of my work with them? Yeah, it was done. Mission accomplished. 😀
I enjoyed that victory for no more than a minute before I deflated. Because by the time I went back into the house and thought about my mini-rant, it occurred to me. I’d forgotten to shut off the pool the day before, and I didn’t take the garbage in the kitchen out to the trash before the garbage truck came to pick it up.
I better check on those things before I finish my mom’s laundry.
This is hell people. Sheer and utter hell.
Did I mention that one of the fire alarms in the house went off last night at 10:30pm? No? Yeah, it did. It loudly blared four or five times and then stopped. And there I was an hour later, lying in bed imagining that it was a small fire in the attic and any minute the conflagration was going to spread and the whole place would be consumed in flames. Never happened, of course. Question is, why did the alarm go off at all? Things like this never happen when Honey’s home.
(I was going to end this post right here but then…)
Unbelievable! Diva dog just now started crazy barking at one of the back sliders. I got up to see what was freaking her out and lo-and-behold, my mom’s out by the pool with the pool net trying to scoop a critter out of the water. I should probably tell you here that the woman can’t swim. Never could. So yeah, her being unsteady on her feet, half blind, and wielding an eight-foot aluminum pole with a net on the end at the deepest part of the water to save what turned out to be a swirling leaf? Not good.
After I shuttle her to safety and give her the equivalent of the old “are you effing out of your mind talk”
*insert the mighty snow globe*
Get this. She looks at me as if I’m nuts, and says, “Boy, you’re grumpy. What’s the matter? Can’t you sleep? You probably miss your hubby too much.”
*Turns to look at you* It’s true. She’s trying to kill me.
“No,” I said patiently. “You know you’re not supposed to go near the pool.”
To which she mumbled under her breath, “I suppose you’re going to tell on me.”
*Thinks for a moment* Yeah, I don’t even know what that means. Tell who? Honey? This didn’t stop me from saying, “Of course, and don’t do it again.”
Oh boy. Now Madge is not talking to me because she thinks I’m going to tell on her. To whom? I have no idea.
There you have it, folks…and it’s only 10am here.
Thanks for listening!