bunchofgrapes: (Third Doctor)
Every Sunday night I set out my recycling for Monday morning curbside pickup. I do this the night before because the recycling pickup can be very early or very late and I don't want to miss the pickup. I pretty much recycle everything - junk mail, catalogs, cardboard and the usual plastics and aluminum. By doing this I only have to set out my regular trash every two or three weeks. I only bring this up because fall and winter around here can be pretty windy and windy doesn't always bode well for recycling containers or the stuff in them.

So let's go back to early this year. It was cold and when I put the recycling out, it was very calm. However, as often happens, sometime after midnight the wind started howling. Around 4am I heard the dreaded sound of a recycling container rolling down the sidewalk and all of its contents going with it. Well, the last thing I want is to have all my crap littering the neighborhood so what do I do? I get up, put on layers of clothes over my jammies, grab a coat and my flashlight and head outside to pick up the scattered cans and containers. I try to be pretty quiet because people are asleep and really, I don't want to be seen picking up crap at four in the morning. I've pretty much gotten every thing when I hear a door open and out comes my neighbor putting out his trash. He gives me a cheery wave and I wave back. You know, just like it's every day you see someone out in layers of clothes, picking up cans and containers at 4:30 in the morning.
bunchofgrapes: (Lights)
This is going to be a long post with a lot of randomness. A lot has been going on in the month since I last posted and most of it is good.

First I'll start with the semi-scary )
bunchofgrapes: (O)
Many, many years ago, a co-worker used to comment on how she needed to go home to clean because the cleaning lady was coming the next day. This was something I could never comprehend. If a woman was coming to clean your house, why do you need to clean it first? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?

Yesterday I got an estimate from Silvia to clean my house once a month. I spend most of my weekend doing yard work or cleaning the house but I feel like the house is winning. Silvia cleans my friend's house and her parents house and they love her so I got her number and actually called. She came out yesterday so I could meet her and she could see the place and give me an estimate. Her estimate was extremely reasonable so she's coming tomorrow morning.

After she left, I immediately knew what my co-worker meant. Looking around the place, I realized that I needed to clean up the clutter so she could actually clean. So I have spent the entire weekend attacking the clutter. Having a cleaning person come is like watching that show, Hoarders. I was tossing stuff right and left, filling up the recycling bin with magazines and junk mail, and getting together a box of stuff to donate.

So yeah, to get your house cleaned, you first have to clean your house.
bunchofgrapes: (Lights)
This is going to be fairly random because I have nothing much to say.

Just finished a pretty grueling week at work. I was talking with a co-worker about it. It's not that we're putting in the hours that we did last year. It's that we're all so worn down from the constant grind over the last couple of months and we're kind of sick of each other. Thanksgiving can't come soon enough.

I have over 60 hours of use it or lose it leave and close to 400 hours of regular leave. If I take leave, I end up making up the hours within the two week pay period. Sucks. I have until December 17th to use the use it or lose it leave so I'm going to try to take 4 days off next week. Try being the operative word here.

I'm thinking the pretend husband will get me an iPad for Christmas. He really needs to buy me a new laptop. Hey, maybe he'll buy me one of those too. I have a fairly big list that also includes a new treadmill.

Speaking of the pretend husband, I've just sold a couple of friends on the idea. One has a pretty steady guy who will lavish her with gifts so for her it's pretend children. But my other friend is definitely getting a pretend husband.

Tucker has been doing pretty good. He's had a couple of hiccups but for the most part, his urinary problems have been under control. Still, he goes to see the doctor who did his surgery on Tuesday. Regular vet wants him to take a look at Tucker's...um...area (not sure what to call it)...to make sure there's no scar tissue blocking the opening. Given his past troubles, I wouldn't be surprised if there is.

Tomorrow is the first weekend since sometime in September that I have absolutely nothing to do--except meet this woman who is coming by to give me a cleaning estimate. But I have nothing scheduled or planned and I'm looking forward to it. Maybe I can finally get some writing done.

And lastly, I hate when Frasier isn't on. It's my late night comfort food.
bunchofgrapes: (Adama - strong coffee)
On my way home I was thinking about how glad I was that I grew up when I did. I mean, compared to today's kids, we skirted every kind of danger and came through relatively unscathed. Think about it. We rode bikes without helmets. We sat in the back of a pick up truck - on the wheel well, no less. Not only did we ride around in cars without being belted in, we stood up in the back or front seat and sat way, way back in the station wagon and made faces at the cars behind us. We played sports with have the protective equipment they have now. We sat too close to the TV and listened to loud music (ok, so I might be a little deaf now). We left the chicken out on the counter to thaw and ate things with raw eggs in them. And somehow, we survived. We are the toughest generation.

Seriously, though, I think they made our skulls thicker back then. I remember being knocked momentarily unconscious at least three times and knocked woozy at least twice. Happily, I can remember that. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not really sure how I survived childhood without an ER visit or four. Maybe it's because my mom believed that Neosporin could cure any thing. Have a glass lamp fall from the ceiling and split your head open, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. Slice your finger open with a steak knife and bleed all over the kitchen, take the kid to the hospital for stitches, right? No sir! Neosporin and a butterfly bandage. And a Donny Osmond album (hey, I was 9). Slice off your arm with a hacksaw, call an ambulance, right? No sir! Put some Neosporin and a slightly larger bandage on it. Okay, I might have made that part up but I'm sure if it had happened, my mother would have told me to put some Neosporin on it. She truly believed it could cure anything and you know, she might be right.
bunchofgrapes: (O)
I was talking with a co-worker friend this morning about Thanksgiving plans how we both like big family gatherings where relatives you only ever see at the holidays bring dishes of things you'd never otherwise eat - like mashed turnips and mincemeat pie. This got me to thinking about my Aunt Edna.

Technically, I think she was my great aunt )
bunchofgrapes: (cat and mouse)
Today kicked off a week of 12 hour days, all leading up to this massive review on Friday from 4:30 to 6:00. First off, I love that they schedule this stuff over the holidays because really, who needs Christmas, anyway? And second, who the hell schedules a review on a Friday from 4:30 to 6:00? Right, I have my answer to that one.

When I got home tonight, Pudgy the neighborhood hobo cat left a treat on the walkway leading to my front porch. Hint: it's small and dead.

I wonder if my next door neighbor can hear the sub woofer from the surround sound in the living room. She's never said anything but damn, that thing rattles the walls.

I completely forgot to thank [livejournal.com profile] anamin for the v-gift. That was such a nice surprise--thank you!

And to put a positive spin on all this, the Caps are on a tour of the West coast so all the games this week are at 9:30 or 10pm so I don't have to stress about seeing the game.


bunchofgrapes: (Default)

May 2015

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