Archive for March, 2011

Accomplishment City

March 13, 2011

Today, I learned something new.

While OllieBear may not have been very helpful in my actions that lead to this discovery, I made the discovery no less.

Today, dear friends, I came to the realization that somewhere in my brain, there has been very valuable information hiding.




I know how to fold the fitted sheet in a bed sheets set.

Honestly? I have no idea why this makes me so happy.

It just does.

Maybe it makes me feel like I am an adult? Maybe it just makes me feel like I am someone who has something in my brain that might possibly understand what it means to be slightly organized? Or maybe, just maybe, I am looking for a little success in my life after a relaxing and lovely weekend.  A relaxing and lovely weekend that had the dark cloud of “I am broke” shame hanging over it.

Either way, I should not question it. Success- whether it be over sheets, a gold star, or a job promotion can have varying degrees of power over us, and varying degrees of weight, especially when it comes to balancing out the things that we aren’t super proud of.

Yea, I took all of the change in my vacation fund piggy bank so that I could buy myself a few groceries this week. So what, who cares?

I also did not have to ask Manfriend to pay for something else, after a weekend of being… what does that fantastic 90’s trio call it?? Oh, yes… a scrub.

This too, a small success. So what if the kid who was at the bank changing it out gave me a smile that was trying to say “I understand”, when in reality it said “You do not look young enough to be changing this out for bar money.” As it was the fake St. Patrick’s Day celebration in the neighborhood, which means a lot of drunken tomfoolery at the bars and even more short shorts with green knee high socks on hussies,  I guess I can’t blame him.

Little did he know– this hussy whose knee high green socks/short shorts/headband with glittery shamrock antenna were missing- knows how to fold a damn fitten sheet.





so there is that.

March 6, 2011

I have not written on this blog in well… longer than I wish were the case. I could go on and on with excuses of why I haven’t written on here, but the truth is, I just haven’t had anything that I thought was worth writing about. Recently, I realized that I don’t need some light bulb moment of a topic to write about. Sometimes just opening this page and starting to type is really all it takes.

Coming back to this is interesting, as the site is always updating things, so I kind of feel like I don’t know how to do things on here anymore. Hopefully I will keep opening this thing, keep writing, and figure out any newfangled changes that have popped up.

Whenever I haven’t written in a long time, I am tempted re-read my recent posts to see what has happened since I last posted and where my mood and train of thought were. This is stupid, as many things have happened, and it would get quite boring to do some sort of mini recap of a lot of things that really aren’t that interesting. I am not, in fact, going to read my last posts, they are what they are.



I know that in the past I have written about the many creatures that Manfriend and I have welcomed into our home. These creature are a part of our family. Every family has a black sheep of sorts, a troublemaker.

The troublemaker in our household is Daphne.

She is not just a troublemaker. She may or may not be an attempted murderer.

She is not this extreme…

or this:

In reality, she is much more clever than these foolish creatures, flaunting their weapons. She sticks to standard cat habits that could cause freak accidents.

Is she a genius, or does she just like to rub her face against the corner of a glass frame that hangs over Manfriend’s head when he sleeps? Does that corner of the frame seem to be a new favorite place for her to push her head against, or is she trying to knock it off the wall onto Manfriend’s head, leading to his demise.

I hope the former, but I can’t be sure.

In a case like this, what does one do? Can cats be charged with attempted murder? Why does she keep going back to that one picture frame, when there are so many at the same height? What is it that has occurred that has made her become a possible criminal?

These questions will continue to plague me. Each night I go to bed hoping not to be awakened by broken glass on Manfriend’s angry face.

Is there already an industry for tiny cat handcuffs? Clearly, there should be.


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