The funeral service for my cousin was today. My uncle was just a rock, I tell you what. He greeted everyone by the casket and chatted with people and was just really composed.
The cousins in my generation were a hot mess. I found out another cousin, who I think is 40-ish (she's younger than me, but not by a lot) had a heart attack and triple bypass a month ago. God DAMN. She's recovering well, though, so that's a good thing.
The visitation part of the services was open casket, and...it shouldn't have been. When my cousin fell, she fell face down, and there was some damage the mortician couldn't repair. Yikes.
It's my dad's birthday, so now we're taking him to Applebee's. But first he and Tim are shopping at Harbor Freight Tools. I noped out of that nerdfest and am hanging out in the car.
I just had a conversation with the DH this morning about not leaving clothes on top of my dresser. He feels it is "slovenly." He does put all his clothes away at the end of the day, but HIS dresser top is covered with receipts and cigars boxes and change and dog treats and whatever is in his pockets. His response was that his is just stuff, which is different that clothes, because clothes have places they are supposed to go. Luckily (for him), he ended with, "I know I'm anal about these things. I just wanted to let you know it bugs me but you can do whatever you want with your clothes."
I'm still transferring clothes into the new dresser I bought because I had piles of clothing with no place to put them.
For the pot luck, I don't know if I should take the slow cooked beef with potatoes and Swiss chard, or the chipotle chicken I've got in the crock pot now.
There's a 2-bedroom cottage for sale in Shropshire for 200K pounds. Looks pretty standard on the outside, but...
Guh.
Zenkitty, do you still have my cellphone number? I'm often up in the middle of the night feeding ltc or just not sleeping. So, feel free to text me. If I'm not up, the sound is off on my phone, so you won't wake us.
Guh.
I've been meaning to get a passport.
I am watching football. This is not my sport. But I'm trying.
The discussion of where the clean clothes go is also pretty fraught around my house.
Hmm, I may look less capable than I thought, even from the outside.
Cleared our street, checked on the folk who responded that my post on the neighborhood site, started on one, went home to pee, came back to discover someone finishing the job. Checked another, done. We have the fucking clearest street in the hood. Down to asphalt! Thank gawd. Got drunk in the street on white wine talking to neighbors until it got too cold. Made a new friend. Everyone loved the cookies.
I love my hood.
Now I'm going to shower and eat something for the first time today.
sj, I have your email and address but not your phone! Stalking fail.
It's how we look to the outside world that counts, right? The world at large doesn't know where our clothes land when they aren't on us.
It helps me to remember I'm not the only one with these sorts of problems (or these exact problems, even) - that all the rest of the women in the world aren't meeting the impossible standard I hold up for myself either (my sister).
There's a 2-bedroom cottage for sale in Shropshire for 200K pounds. Looks pretty standard on the outside, but...
Oh, and holy mother, that's some cottage.
