Hate Old Stuff

Lying awake in bed last night I couldn’t help but take a good look around me and realized that I’m surrounded by old stuff.  Antiques everywhere, styles I detest, dark, dreary, gloomy heavy pieces of furniture, hand-me-downs from people I barely knew, and I was totally disgusted. 

The thing is, it’s not just my bedroom but the entire freakin house filled with these monstrosities, and I could say that I have no idea how I got to living this way, but the truth is that I do know.  It’s just that the antiques infiltrated my home at such an alarmingly slow pace, so gradual, that it completely went past me.  It’s El Cheapo’s fault.  He has this thing about preserving his past, his entire past, and he hangs on to things tenaciously. 

Well, suffice it to say that ALL of his grandmother’s furnishings are now housed under this roof.  Every single room (with the exception of the living room) are Nanny’s furniture.  And the living room isn’t mine, either, because El Cheapo bought every stick there before we got married.

I recall asking for new furniture a few times, and he’s always put me off with a grimace on his face and a shrug of his shoulders.  Translation:  Why?  We have plenty of good furniture now.

Yeah, and none are of my choosing.  It’s totally depressing.  Maybe one day he’ll come home and we’ll mysteriously have acquired new furniture, new silverware, and maybe even dinner ware and the likes.  I swear, if he somehow could… he’d make it to where I’d have to wear Nanny’s old underwear; and that is just too gross to contemplate.  Ugh!

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I’m Really, Really Pissed!

Woke up late this morning and rushed over to the Drama Queen’s for our daily walk.  Today we were going to take Kaoz, their 100 pound pit bull mix, with us just so that he wouldn’t get upset at our leaving and tear things up around the house.  Fine.  I took the lead just to see if I could control him. Dog Whisperer style, you know?  DQ took the baby stroller with the baby in it (ha ha) and we set off down the street.  Their neighborhood has tons of dogs.  Big, ugly dogs, all out of control even if they were behind tall backyard fences.  Dogs are barking, Kaoz is really tugging on his leash, and even though I’m overweight, I was no match for Kaoz.  Half way down the block, he yanks the leash from my hands and heads to the nearest fence with one of the ugly dogs behind it.

The DQ freaks (nothing new there), and starts yelling at me, treating me as if I were a feeble minded 95 year old something (definitely not her mother), asking me “What were you thinking?!” and “Are you crazy?!” and more… but I don’t want to repeat them.  I told her I didn’t drop the leash on purpose, that Kaoz really ripped it out of my grip, but she wouldn’t listen.  She kept accusing me of dropping the leash on purpose because after all, “she saw me deliberately do it”.  Whatever.  I took the stroller, gave her my back, and told her I was going once around the block with Zack (that’s my grandson), and then I was going home.

She was waiting for me in front of her house and when I again tried to tell her I didn’t like her tone with me and that I hadn’t dropped the leash on purpose, she once again told me what for in her customary uppity tone.  So I said, “Fine, whatever.”  and I left.  I think I’ll not speak to her for several days.  Who the hell does the kid think she is talking and treating me that way?

I’ll just walk by myself over here in my own neighborhood which is much prettier and better suited to that sort of thing.  And that, makes me feel tons better.

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I’m Free

The DQ finally quit her job and is now home (for good, I hope).  I did have to keep Zee Saturday through Sunday, but now I think it’s over.  She was trying to get me to watch him on the 5fth of something like that, but I was able to say no.  Miracle, huh?

Anyway, since DQ is now home, we decided to start walking every morning.  My goal is 5 miles per day, but it’s going to take some time since I haven’t exercised in years.  This morning, bright and early, around 6:30 a.m. we walked for an entire mile!  Woo hoo!  The temperature was only 66 degrees, another miracle, and no humidity for a change.

I came home right after and got on Pogo, my addiction.  I played for a couple of hours and now I have the whole day left to do with as I please.  I could do house cleaning and packing and stuff, but I won’t.  I’m giving myself a two day vacation which is reasonable and certainly deserving.  Right?

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5 Days to Freedom

Happy Birthday, Chris!

Anyway, so flashing back about a month or so, the DQ got fed up with her whacko bosses, and walked out on her job.  Whoopee!  I thought that was it, that I would get to retire from watching Zee but it didn’t work out that way.  Oh, she stayed home for a couple of weeks and then not only did she get a job, she got TWO of them.  Oi; but that’s another story right there.

So, she goes back to work, this time working as an admin for this CPA who sounds really wonderful [at first glance].  A week goes by and bits and pieces of reality start trickling in.  Let me tell you, I worried like hell.  Seemed to me, DQ was working for a crook.  Albeit, a white collar one, but a crook nonetheless.

Firstly, she’s going to pay DQ out of two accounts (I forget the story behind that one).  Okay, fine, that didn’t seem too bad.  Except for the fact that tax-wise, that’s not good for DQ.

A few days go by, and boss lady informs DQ that she won’t take out any taxes.  She’ll just pay DQ contract labor and let it go at that.  A bell went off because if she’s contract labor, then she should get paid for any time over her 40-hour week, right?  But this lady says DQ is salaried, so no overtime pay.  Hmm.

Another few days go by and boss lady tells DQ that she’s going to pay her still from two different accounts, but this time she wants to treat the paycheck as a “loan”.  Yeah.  Oh, but don’t worry, because it’s all good and washes out in the end.  Don’t ask me to explain that one because no matter how DQ explained it to me, I still couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

Finally, this past Monday, boss lady says that the IRS is coming to the office to look around (turns out she’s being investigated by the IRS for back payroll taxes — or the lack thereof), and that DQ is to leave the office during that time, not be present while the IRS is there because boss lady doesn’t want the IRS to think she has employees.  In fact, everyone who is in that office is supposed to be family and working for free!  Red flag!  Red flag!

So, DQ and I do brunch at IHOP on Friday while the IRS is investigating, and 4 hours later DQ returns to the office which is really a house the boss lady had built but then something happened and she stayed in her old house and turned this one into the offices.  Oh, never mind, that too is another story.

Friday evening, DQ comes to pick up Zee and El Cheapo happened to be home.  Lord have mercy, he surprised me!  He actually volunteered to pay off DQ’s car loan so that DQ would quit her current job (and I use the term loosely).  So, today she gets her $6,000, and the condition is that she’ll quit tomorrow.  First thing Monday morning.  El Cheapo wanted her to leave the job right there and then so that I could have Tuesday off since it’s my birthday, but realistically she at least owes this lady the rest of the week so as not to leave her high and dry.  Although, if it were me, I would leave her high and dry, no problems.

Five more days and I’m free!  Hopefully for good, this time.

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Slow as Snails

So we have a lot picked out to purchase, but that’s about it.  We haven’t made an offer on it as yet, but suspect we will pretty soon.  At least we better, because if we delay any longer, there won’t be any lots to purchase.  At least not at La Cantera where I want to live.

The house is painted, the oriental rug is clean, and our sofa is being reupholstered.  All we need to do now is have the windows washed and the carpets cleaned.  I hate carpets; nasty, filthy, germ collecting things that they are.  Our new house won’t have an inch of carpet in it.  It’ll have nothing but hardwoods and tiles.  I wish we were moving to  Florida or Hawaii instead of stupid Fort Worth.  Everyone commenting on the move exclaims how nice and fun and whatever Fort Worth is, but I’ve never been able to see that and I think I never will.  Isn’t that sad?  Truth is, I don’t want to live in Fort Worth.  I’d rather stay here in this boring house than move to Fort Worth and an exciting new house.  Oh, well.  Life is what it is.

Finally got the stupid computer fixed.  I’m not exactly sure what it is I did to fix it, but now I can once again click on files and folders to open them.  I haven’t been able to in quite  a long time, and it was driving me bonkers.

Losing weight has become increasingly difficult.  I’ve tried everything and all diets available, including ones given to me by the doctor.  Nothing works.  It’s not that I keep gaining, but that I cannot lose no matter what I try.  I told El Cheapo that I’m so ready to try the Lap Band.  I’m not sure how that works, but I know someone who got one and lost an amazing 65 pounds and kept it off.  I was so proud of her!

I don’t look bad now, but I’m terribly vain, you see.  I don’t want to look like the grandmother that I am.  I want to look like I did when I was in my 30’s.  See?  I’m not even wanting to look like I was in my 20’s.  Thirties works just fine for me.

Somehow I got on a book site and I was reading bits of Sylvia Browne’s books (is that how you spell the lady’s name?), and for a few seconds there, I really believed one can actually contact and become acquainted with their “Spirit Guides”.  I’ve been trying off and on practically all of my life and I have yet to meet mine.  Maybe they don’t like me?  And another thing… I talk to God all the time and He never talks back.  Could be that my hearing is off, though.

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So… where the hell is it?

This morning Ella called to tell me all about the wonderful outdoors lunch she had planned for her friends.  There was even going to be a home made ice cream concoction she went on and on about for I swear to god almost an hour.

I gave her the appropriate “wish I could be there” crap and she promised to fax me some of the ice cream.

It’s now been almost 10 hours, and I’ve been watching my fax machine like a hawk.  So, where the hell is it, Ella?!

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