Forgot to eat until three pee em today. Unheard of. Possibility: new stinkum, with honey-bourbon-vanilla notes, might be stifling my appetite rather than whetting it. I don’t care for sweet food — not more than one bite — and the scent alone might be reducing my urge to nosh. But I don’t think the Cloyingly Rich Perfume Diet will fly any time soon.
Scrubbing the loo is loathesome, but gleaming fixtures bring me wa. The opposite of wa is being so grossed out by a shower floor that I prayed for the ability to hover. There is nothing like having four male roommates at once to make one see the wisdom in wearing footgear to the bathroom.
Now that I’m an old married lady, I’m adding Honey’s CDs to my computer (and if waiting sounds ridiculous, I’d ask you to give me your take on current copyright laws.) But one of them was spattered in soda (howinhell does that happen?) and then replaced in the case (whoinhell does that?) I’d love to blame his ex-wife, but I know the beast well, and she never put away anything in her cotton-picking life. At least it’s on the non-playing side.
Scanning extensive documents without auto-feed is vastly boring. Even more tiresome? Staring at a stack of insurance paperwork and tax documentation. The annoyance has to build up in my system first. But what a relief when it’s gone.
Groundhog Day was the day before yesterday and it’s currently 66F outside. Working on five pee em. That’s dark, where I grew up, and rock ice, and I still can’t get over this balmy weather. If only it never got any warmer…..
Today, I am especially grateful for coffee; for coffee that can be bloody strong and yet be 2/3 decaf; and for coffee I did not have to boil in a pot and settle with an egg.
I am grateful, in a shamefaced way, for the good people at Dow Chemical, who made scrubbing bubbles. When people became so fastidious (or decadent, or both) that daily bathing prompted them to build indoor baths (and when did they start putting them next to the toilet? So much for hygiene) the heinous chore of loo-scrubbing was born. Doctors and nurses I’ve worked with have stressed that periodic purging will keep bacteria from burgeoning, but unless you’re hosing the walls with bleach, there is no real chance of creating a sterile, immune-system-lowering germ-free environment. So scrub away. Scrub on, Scrubber.
On the other hand, unless it’s livestock, you stand no chance of catching anything from a toilet seat — with or without the utterly useless toilet seat “protectors” that look like waxed paper cowboy hats — so long as you are actually sitting on it, and not doing handstands, and then sucking your thumb. Wash your hands all you want — they’ll never be clean — so for god’s sake, stop biting your nails and picking at your eyelashes.
But I’m terribly sorry for wrecking the environment and the water supply. I really am. But I live in a city and we can’t all go down to the river and scour our hides with sand. Not even on a roster basis.