Random Thoughts

I felt the mad urge to blog today. What is worse is that I am also fighting the mad urge to blog in the third person. That style of writing is one of my Naughty Habits, and I often engaged in it during my college years. That is not to say that I find it an incorrect style of writing – rather, it is simply a Guilty Pleasure that Autrice happens to enjoy.

“Autrice, are you actually going to write this in the third person?”

Never fear, dear Readers! I shall resist that compulsion!

This has been a somewhat productive week for me. Better Half and I have finally finished the Christmas decorating. In my more formative years, the entire project would have taken me a few short days. Having to pause and rest every twenty or so minutes really does drag out the whole process. My Mum has been begging for photographs of the house. I haven’t the heart to tell her that I’m too pooped to put away all the empty boxes.

Better Half managed to eat bad pork last night (or so he claims, as I ate the pork and I am not having any difficulties.) With my handy Pack Mule down for the count, there is no chance of getting everything set to rights downstairs today. We are also putting the commissary shopping off until tomorrow.

My biggest issue at the moment is not the state of affairs in the house, but the sad state of a special box that was to have been shipped to Canada last week. It contains a holiday delicacy for TFMM, who is leaving next Thursday for a mini-vacation. How on earth can he enjoy this gift if it is perched upon my dining room table, a monolith in tribute to my lack of energy this month? Surely he will forgive me for not shipping it sooner, as long as the thing doesn’t grow fuzz between now and it’s arrival at his home.

In other news, I am gearing up for my trip to CO. Mum is having surgery the first week of January, and I am flying out there to take care of her. I am more nervous about my own lack of strength than I am about her surgery. Mum is a Tough Italian Lady, and nothing stops her when she puts her mind to something. Dad and I will enjoy some male bonding (for lack of a better term!) for a few days, while she recuperates in the hospital. I’ve already planned on cooking my famous barley chili for him.

Better Half will have the house to himself for a week or so. This is about as worrisome as leaving a teenager home alone with the keys to the family car. Better Half doesn’t always use his Better Judgment. Should Better Half misbehave and demolish our house or car, I shall promptly throttle him upon my return. Don’t misunderstand me, dear Readers. Better Half is a very kindly and intellectual man. However, he is also a doofus and sometimes does things that give me reason to pull out my hair… or reasons to load a gun. I have already arranged for our Goodly Neighbors to keep an eye on him, and I have instructed them to call 911 if the newspapers pile up in the driveway more than two days.

Situations like that always remind me of my exbest friend, Droolie. She threw a typical “kegger” during her teenage years, unbeknownst to her out-of-town parents. The party would have gone undetected had she remember to look under the living room sofa. She did not remember to do this, and the tell-tale clink clink clink of bottles rattling together as her mother vacuumed effectively announced that heavy drinking had transpired.

A note to future generations: always check under the sofa and beds.