Darned shame our income doesn’t. And if #Twitler and his cronies get their way, we’ll be getting a lot less to live on.
With less to live on, we might have qualified for food stamps to survive, but #45 and the Repugnantcans are killing them too, along with our Medicare, Medicaid, and anything else that might keep us from becoming another pair of homeless people at the mercy of the streets.
It would be nice if I could go get a job and supplement our income but then The Curmudgeon would be left alone for 8 hours a day and he can’t be.
Online job you say? Oh sure, most of them are scams and I have neither the time nor the energy to sort through them to find a real one.
Why not do your writing? I would if I could manage to think straight and have him leave me alone for more than a minute at a time. The man never shuts his mouth. Who can concentrate?
I was going to test out my new weed wacker…
Yep, such is my life.
I ordered a new weed wacker the day mine died (the 17th) because I was in no shape to go shopping for one at a store. My back is a mess these days.
My new 10 amp electric weed wacker arrived yesterday (the 19th). The Curmudgeon helped me put it together…he held it while I put the parts on it.
I’ll test drive it later today providing it stays rain free.
Five minutes into clearing the tall grasses and weeds on the pond bump in the yard and my battery powered weed wacker went dead. Completely, totally DEAD. I switched batteries and it was still dead.
I ordered a corded one that will arrive on Friday. No more batteries dying on me and no heavy gas trimmer to lug around.
Now if only my aching back and the weather will cooperate I should have everything trimmed by Sunday for sure. And it will look like this:
I managed to plant the petunias in the rocking chair pot.
Lucy has completely recovered from her ordeal with the kitchen drawer.
I had to order new hardware because none of the big box stores had what I needed. The handles had to measure 3.5 inches from screw to screw. They had everything but. We settled on this. We needed 30.
I had Lucy out for a bit, came in, sent her ahead of me while I got garbage together on the back porch.
A loud crashing, skittering, and banging came from the kitchen.
I ran to the half door in time to see Lucy ducking and crashing into things while dragging a kitchen drawer along attached to her collar by the drawer pull.
I have ALWAYS hated these pulls.
The edges stick out, are sharp, and catch on everything!
Going to replace them with something like this:
I ask you to forgive me for not being able to have you here with us for the last few summers you were alive. Believe me when I say we really did miss having you here.
Problem was, things got awful hectic, what with The Curmudgeon’s health getting worse and his mother taking a lot of my time and energy.
And every time you visited you landed in the hospital because it’s PA and, well, …allergies. I didn’t have the energy to deal with it on top of all the rest.
I stressed out so badly the last time you were here and landed in the hospital, that someone dear to both of us suggested to me that for my health and sanity I needed to say no.
But I kept calling you, I did…no one would let me talk to you.
I love you Mom. 7/31/1915-1/1/2007
And so naughty too.
I bought a lovely canvas shopping bag to take to the farmers market and various other stores.
Lucy decided it was a toy and I caught her just as she was starting to chew on the purse flap. So glad she ignored the leather handles.
I do believe that was first time I’ve yelled at her since she arrived.
For caregivers everywhere:
If the people we take care of only knew half of what goes through our minds, they might be less demanding.
Isn’t it enough that I do everything around here?
Do NOT make me feel like a slave by ordering me to do things. Do not make unreasonable demands.
Remember kindness begets kindness.
If I cook you food, eat the damned food without complaining because you could be consigned to a nursing home where the food is not as tasty as what I cook.
You can easily say please and thank you without damaging your fragile ego.
Ordering me about just makes me visualize things you’d rather not know.
Gas lighting me doesn’t work either.
I do NOT lift your dead weight these days since you completely destroyed my back.
If you fall down because you stupidly insist you can walk without a walker or cane, then you can expect me to call for help to get you up. I refuse to damage myself more just to let you hang on to your freaking pride.
I suggest you watch the social media closely. If you think you have any idea of how We the People really feel, you might be mistaken.
If your head is so far up your ass that you think waging a war on women, the poor, and the disabled, and supporting the #orangetroll will keep you in office because you’ve been in office so long…you are mistaken.
If you think We the People are not outraged…you are mistaken.
If you think you don’t work for us. We the People, who put you in office…you are truly mistaken.
If you’ve ever heard a woman tell her child, “I brought you into this world, I can take you out.” You’d better keep that expression in mind but a tad modified…”We put you in that position, we can take you out.”
You are always only one election away from unemployment.
Nothing like having to pay to have someone painfully squash your boobies between two plates, top to bottom and then side to side. Yes, pay for it. I have a co-pay.
Well at least I do for now.
If the Republicans/religious nut cases have their way, I probably won’t be able to afford another one.
You know, all that pre-existing condition crap they’re so eager to impose on us.
My baby sister Mary, born 11/7/1957
Diagnosed in 1989 with breast cancer
Two mastectomies, many chemos, radiation treatments, and two bone marrow transplants.
Died of metastatic breast to bone cancer 4/13/2001
Having so much on my mind, so many things to remember, has made me the absent minded professor.
Also there’s The Curmudgeon who gets great joy out of pushing my buttons, making me angry enough that my brain stutters.
I would love some peace and quiet. A place to escape to but at the rate we’re going that will never happen.