Scraping paint in July? JULY? To me, that’s spring and fall work, for when it is like 50-60 degrees out.
Annual flood watering of my plants today. I fill a large plastic storage bin with water and submerge the pots one at a time and let them sit for 20-30 minutes until they stop bubbling. I figure if they’re bubbling, it is because there are air pockets in the roots that are not allowing water to get to ALL of the roots. So once a year I submerge them and let it all bubble out, then let them drain and put them back out on the deck.
How is that ranty? Because I know there will be a drop or two of water that spills down on the deck below me, even though they are not home at the moment, and I am anticipating them doing what they did last year when my injured arm spasmed, causing me to drop the watering pot and spill all of about 3-4 ounces of water onto their deck: Immediately run to the office and file a complaint. :rolleyes:
Oh, and this is less ranty, but kinda funny. I got my new bank account on Monday. I was told that it would take 7-10 BUSINESS DAYS to get my new checks. I forgot to take out my rent payment on Friday, so I had to run there on my lunch time Saturday and withdraw the money. They wanted $3 to cut me a check for it, so I took the money down the street to Walmart and paid them 60 cents to cut me a money order. I run back to my apartment office and make the payment before noon to avoid late fees. On my way out I decide to check my mail.
I know, scraping paint in July isn’t the best idea, but my house is slowly becoming that house, you know? The only part of the house with paint. It’s peeling, the previous color (seafoam freakin’ green) is showing through, and it is in the shade.
Meh, TheKid will be home Tuesday, she can scrape then.
Hey, just to pour salt in your wounds, I smoked for less than ten years, and quit over 35 years ago. If I heard on the news that an asteroid was screaming towards Earth and would wipe out all life in six months, I’d be buying a carton of cigarettes in ten minutes. On the bright side, I only dream about smoking a couple of nights a month, so that’s getting better.
You are a lovely swimsuit. Very pretty blue, green, and gold pattern. Modest cut. Good quality built in bra. You are on sale, and I also have a $10 off coupon for today. I would have enjoyed wearing you until I either irrevocably stained you with something, ripped you on something, or miraculously lost enough weight that you were too large to wear anymore.
But no. When I tried you on and admired how good we looked together, I happened to check my backside and saw that I could easily make out the little flowered pattern of my granny panties underneath. Had I actually worn you in public, I would have shown far more of my own personal dark side than is acceptable.
…Okay, I take it you use your underwear as a template. You don’t plan on wearing it with the swimsuit.
Pre-emptive pitting: I hope you guys have had second thoughts about throwing that football around in the pool. After it hit me in the head and all. Either that, or you’ll end up hitting someone who won’t shrug it off. Why a genuine football, anyway? You can get inflatable pool toys at the dollar store, FFS.
No, I’ve been stealing your cool. Here (Oaxaca latitude !7N, 1000 miles south of Laredo, ) it never got over 85° all during June. Right now it’s about 77 degrees with light rain. At night it’s two blankets and several cats on the bed, and my wife nagging me to light the fireplace. May I gloat a little?
Thanks Kinki, it sucked. I have a lot of issues with the local Humane Society. They say they are no kill, but they do kill. If I had known that the smooshy cat was on death row, I would have adopted him and then if it didn’t work out, I would have put him up for adoption with my group. grumbles.
Anyhow, I’ll rant for you. I was stationed in Okinawa, so has some experience in your weather.
It was just flipping HOT in Kinki’s world. The humidity is about 300 percent so Kinki can’t ever feel clean. Yes, Kinki can take a shower, but as soon as** Kinki** walks outside, its like walking into a sauna. Freshly ironed clothes suddenly look like they have been crumpled up in the laundry basket Sweat doesn’t cool one with that sort of humidity, it just makes people look even more rumpled.
The plants grow well, but so do the icky bugs. Habu like it as well, so you can’t even sit under a tree to get some shade.
In several countries I’ve seen store signs asking people to try swimsuits on with their own panties or shorts underneath. Yes, the suits themselves have a piece of plastic stuck to the crotch… still, eh?
Mother dearest: when one of your children gets a new job, “does it pay more than the last one?” is not the right first think to ask. May I suggest “where?”, “for which company?” or “when do you start?”?
I managed to lose my daughter’s cell phone in a beauty salon. My procedures were done long before her foiling was halfway done, so she asked me to carry the thing, and I put it in my pocket, rather than in my purse, because if her daddy called, he’d call on her phone. At any rate, it must have fallen out of my pocket somewhere in the salon. As soon as I noticed it was missing, I took out MY phone and tried calling hers, while wandering around to listen for the ringing. Nope. I’m sure someone picked it up and turned off the ringer until she could remove the card.
Now, the phone itself was a freebie, and quite a few years old. But my daughter didn’t care about the phone itself, she does care about the information on it…she doesn’t have a list of phone numbers written down somewhere, they were all stored in her phone. Grumble. Growl. I feel horrid, and it’s not something that I can really make up to her, either.
That sucks! But good news X 2 - phones can be had for free still and her detailed phone bill will have the numbers she’s called on it; I copy/pasted mine into an online doc I can access from wherever if need be.
My daughter is convinced that she left her iPod Nano at church last Sunday. It had not been turned into Lost and Found when she checked yesterday. She’s devastated.
Well, the Tardes are at it again this year with the fireworks. Use of fireworks is, of course, against the law in Portland, and is the most widely ignored law ever passed. Even the cops can’t be bothered with it. It starts as early as July 1st and gradually ramps up over the next several days until the 4th, when it sounds very much like a pitched battle out there. My idiot neighbor with the three dogs, three cats, three grandkids, and three non-working adult children in the house, is a proponent of this nonsense, and so the fun and disturbed sleep began two nights ago. Thanks, assholes.
I’m in the suburbs of PDX and this is the truth. During the summer months, I like to open the windows after dark and cool off my home the old fashioned way. Starting on Saturday, there were far too many neckbeards playing Let’s Blow Shit Up REAL Good to enjoy the cool night air. I’ve went to enjoying a well earned three day weekend to being so grouchy and sleep deprived that I’m the equivalent of Al Swearengen with tits.
You guys will have no sympathy for us - the only thing that marred three blissful sleeping in days was our neighbour firing up the chainsaw at 8:30 Sunday morning. Seriously? The little bit of chainsawing you had to do couldn’t wait until 10 or so? They’re good neighbours, though, so I forgive them this minor trespass.
A mini-rant at myself - our back door doesn’t have a proper closer on it, so I hook a bit of string on it to keep it from swinging in the breeze (I keep it open six inches for the cats). I hook it about a hundred times a day, but the ONE freaking time I forget to hook it, we get a five minute, 100 kph windstorm that takes the door and just FLINGS it open. The door jamb wasn’t in great shape before (it’s on our “fix at some point” list), but it’s in worse shape now.
Until I purchase and wash it, it is a public swimsuit. Once I’ve taken it home and added it to my wardrobe, I can then give it a formal introduction to my labia, perineum, and anus.
I had to close the windows last night to shut out the worst of it. Last year, on the bluff overlooking PDX, was the closest I’ve ever come to a Vietnam flashback. Seriously, the smell of gunpowder was so strong, the smoke hanging in the air, and the sounds so much like gunfire had me having these weird deja vu feelings. I’m taking a nap this afternoon, because I know sleep will be impossible prior to midnight. Between the dogs howling in misery all over the neighborhood and bombs bursting in air, it’s going to be a good, old fashioned goat fuck. Maybe alcohol is the answer.
