monday musings

Sometimes when I open up a new document to write a post it’s as if the thoughts in my brain suddenly see that broad white expanse and flee in terror. I hear them screaming as they scramble to vacate my head space. And then I’m left with nothing of real value to offer and you're stuck with random odd musing.

How it is a 15 year old boy can eat his weight in food every day and still retain that “I never get enough food to eat” ribs poking out physique?

How it is a 15 year old boy can master the complex workings of an XBOX 360 controller and games like Modern Warfare 2 but can’t figure out how to operate the washing machine?

How is it that a 12 year old girl can navigate a texting dialogue with multiple friends at once but can’t seem to pour a glass of juice without spilling it all over the counter?

Why am I the one the dog whines at and steps all over to wake up when she has to pee at 2:30 in the morning? Hey Doofus Dog, there are three other people in this house, go wake up one of them next time.

If an item is left lying on the floor, does it only inhabit a dimension that a woman’s eye can see? Because everyone else in my house ignores the random things that fall on the floor as if they do not exist, and therefore, do not pick up.

If I ask you to do something as part of your job and I don’t get it within a reasonable time frame, I will assume you did not do it. I should not have to ask you if it is done, because I already asked you to DO IT. You should present it to me in a timely manner and let me know that the enhancements you added made it better than what I originally requested. Making me ask for it will just irritate me and make me want to trip you as you leave my office.

Dear supermarket cashier, I know your job is boring, I’ve done it. You could at least show some willingness to do your job pleasantly and with some haste because we all want to move onto the rest of our day. Listening to you talk with your co-worker about the lousy shit you are currently calling a boyfriend just makes me think you are probably destined to be a cashier forever. Just sayin’

You know the morning is going to be on the sucky side when the lane you pull into at the gas station is being serviced by the slowest attendant you have ever seen and the two other lanes have had every car leave before you even get to the pump.

There are definite perks to being married to the same man for 17 years, such as the fact that he is accustomed to, and prepared for, how my digestive tract handles the two hot dog dinner I had the other night because I was too lazy to make anything more substantive. He keeps the Lysol within arm’s reach.

There just something about Twitter that escapes me. Maybe it’s my advanced age and inability to think in 140 character bursts or that I’m just not cool enough. It’s probably that last one there.

The similarities of home ownership and having kids: Each need to be cleaned and cared for to remain in good health. The similarities end when the kids learn how to clean themselves.

I think someone stole our recycling container. That’s the only explanation I can think of as to why the damn thing completely disappeared the other day. And then I am left to wonder, Really? the Recycling Container?

If you were the last person to use an item, please don’t ask me where it is when you can’t find it because you put it somewhere other than in the place it belongs. I have enough trouble finding the things I put in the place they do belong.

Aren’t you glad you came to visit today?