Good morning! If you can hear me, THIS? Is a cry for help! Over the course of the last several days I have become convinced that…*insert sinister music here*…my life is cursed! *big finish with more sinister music*
|I got a candle, garlic, a|
potato (hey, ya never know!),
a pink Chicken of Happiness,
a "How To" book. No Holy
Water, but air freshener
Stop laughing and rolling your eyes for a minute, please. I’m being totally serious here! Last night was the PERFECT example of the curse enacting its terrifying revenge…it was *quivers with the horror of the memory* a chipmunk!
Hubby came home from work and we were “snuggling” when a picture from the window sill fell on his head. He reached up to put it back when a flippin’ full grown CHIPMUNK LAUNCHED ITSELF AT US!!!! (A chipmunk…on the window sill…in our bedroom…what the be-jeepers, people!?!)
Needless to say, our cuddle-time turned into a full-scale chase worthy of a scene from Scooby Doo involving a box, a VERY upset chipmunk, and lots of foul language and scream-laughing! (The scream-laughing? Yeah, that was me…But I'm convinced that was what scared the little guy into the box, so I WAS being helpful! HA!)
Then…there are the fleas! FLEAS! I have never felt so “yummy” in my entire life! And really, I’d take it as a compliment from the little blood-sucking bastards, but they bite everyone else in the house as well. And since I just KNOW I HAVE to taste better than a few of my offspring, I don’t think the fleas have a very “discerning pallet.” So instead of it being a commentary on my yumminess, it becomes nothing more than full-scale assault on the household!
We have tried everything we can think of to turn the tide of battle, but nothing is working! (OK, everything that doesn’t carry a warning about the fact that it’ll kill humans and critters quicker than it will the fleas…) I shower daily. I am a clean individual. Yet, I’m also an individual who will occasionally use a kitty-cat’s flea comb on my head! (I ask you, what is wrong with this picture?)
Now, we’ll move on to the situation with the electronics in my life. They die. A lot. ALL of them! My house goes through electronic gadgets like…a chipmunk you’re attempting to catch in a box! In the six years we’ve lived in this house, we as a collective family have gone through two desktop computers (with a third one currently glitching like me without pain meds and a flea comb!), two and a half laptops, and my mini note book is dying a slow, painful death as I type!
|Not sure which, but one of these is|
destines for use in "repairing" the A/C.
(And no...do not even ask WHY I
happen to have a pointy-tipped battle
axe laying about the house...)
That doesn’t even include the no-less-than TEN mp3 players! (With two still-sort-of functioning ones that lock up from time-to-time…) Or any of the four DVD players, the late and great VHS player, the EXPENSIVE sound system hubby got for Father’s Day, or the multiple TV’s that imploded. And the A/C…
Ah…the A/C. The bain (next to the fleas) of my existence. My dear, dedicated hubby does battle with this monstrosity like the Dad from “A Christmas Story” battled his furnace! Over the past six years there has been a veritable Sea of blood, sweat (literally) and tears (also litterally) shed over this thing! (Not to mention the amount of foul language put forth into the Universe!) And all for naught. *sad sigh* Year after year, it freezes-up, blows the same damned fuse at least once a year, and leaks water all over my basement! (Basically? It does everything BUT cool the freakin’ house!)
And you just KNOW the lack of sweet, sweet cold air leads to the plague of bee-yatch-i-ness in the home! It’s 92 degrees outside with a heat index of well over 100 and somewhere around 3oo% humidity! (You’ve just GOTTA love Indiana weather!) Inside the house, everyone has positioned themselves directly in front of one of the million fans, spread-eagle like a cat in a sun-beam. And no one speaks to one another out of fear of having their head bit-off in a fit of heat-induced rage! (I’m pretty sure I saw my daughter begin to foam-at-the-mouth over a simple question yesterday, but I’m not sure…because when I saw the look in her eyes…I RAN!) (OK, I limp-hop-dragged, but the concept is the same.)
|One of the MANY awesome "toys"|
that have been drug in through the
stupid cat door.
(What was I thinking!?!)
So you see…my life really is cursed! And do NOT even try to use logic like my hubby does with me. It’ll get you nowhere! So I was an idiot and installed a cat door which the furry buggers frequently use to bring in “toys” and “snacks”…so what if our yard is sandy (which the fleas LOVE) and I refuse to spray because of the free-ranging birds. Don’t even point out the fact that the A/C was ancient and jimmy-rigged when we moved in or that most of our electronics were second-hand (and in use 24/7 with wiring from the early 60’s). That kind of sense-making just doesn’t work with me!
What I REALLY need is a Gypsy…or a Shaman…someone to appease the spirits and tell me how many cloves of garlic I need to hang to lift this dark cloud…So, if anyone has the number for a good Medium who could communicate with the Other Side and let me know just what I did to miff-off the Spirits and how to fix it? I’d be ever so grateful!
May your day be COMPLETELY free of curses (and fleas and chipmunks), you’re A/C work like a champ, and your path free of Gypsies you could accidently offend and end up with one of them looking at you and whispering, “Dumb-ass!”PS I just watched hubby trip over a mountain of mis-placed laundry in an attempt to get ready for work. I told him I should have included the "scourge of the ever-growing dirty clothes" in my list of curses. He told me it wasn't a curse, that I just needed keep-up with it or make the kids help me...That? Just shows what he knows about curses! (See what I have to deal with?)