I took my backpack out the boot and slung it over my shoulder. In doing so the strap hooked on my earring and the stud and butterfly came undone. I thought I felt something fall down my cleavage but could not find anything. Eventually I gave up looking and made peace with the fact that it was gone and instead I embraced the idea of single-handedly bringing back the lone earring trend which was popular back when I was in high school, a very long time ago.
Once inside the house I removed my bra, as I think all women do at the end of a long day. There nested in the cups were the butterfly and stud respectively.
Disaster averted thankfully as the only successful way to wear the lone earring is to pair it with a mullet. And nobody wants that trend back again.
The other night He Man treated me to dinner. We went to a local place for steaks and, because I was feeling pretty good about life in general, I indulged in a cocktail.
Called a Jet Setter, it consisted of whiskey, ginger liqueur, pineapple juice and ginger ale. It arrived in a tall glass and was a beautiful golden colour – the exact shade of hair colour I would want if I ever decided to go blonde.
The first sip was potent. I fancy myself a bad ass whiskey drinker because I prefer my whiskey without soda, water or ice. But this bad ass probably has one whiskey a year, a single at that, that she then sips all night long.
But this isn’t really about my whiskey drinking habits. Its about what happened in the car on the way home.
Before you get all excited, this is not that kind of blog.
We were a few blocks from home when suddenly my internal thermostat malfunctioned and my face went from room temperature to hell’s waiting room in a nanosecond. At first I thought I could wait it out, that once we were out of the car the cool night air would restore normality, but a block from home on went the aircon as I thought I was about to spontaneously combust.
Alas, it was a very short block and then we were in the garage and the engine was turned off and there was no more aircon and the night air was not nearly cool enough and, well, let it be a testament to my upbringing that I didn’t start taking my clothes off right there.
Eventually, many locks and doors later we made it into the house where taking off all my clothes did not help, it only made He Man’s temperature rise.
Eventually the repair crew pitched and fixed the thermostat and the jet setter settled into bed and slept soundly.
In the morning I realised a few worrying things. I am only forty but menopause is looming on the horizon. I am probably not going to survive menopause’s brutal hot flushes, at least not without embarrassing myself by stripping naked in Spar. Booze is probably only going to make it worse so I will have to menopause sober. And every time I see the word menopause an image of cabbage comes to mind.
Oh I can see it now, fifty year old me having hot flushes and hot farts. What a package! I won’t be at all surprised if He Man jets off to somewhere exotic until it all passes.
Monday, Tuesday and even Wednesday are a blur but only because Thursday nearly ended me.
Thursday started out well enough. At least I think it did, I don’t really remember. I remember though that it got shittier as the day went by. I didn’t realise how shitty till I was driving home when it was late and dark and I started crying. Not a good thing to do in traffic when you need to keep your wits about you to make it home alive.
But I made it home in one piece and then promptly fell to pieces in He Man’s arms.
I think I last cried so much when my dad died. (And now I will have to take a moment to cry some more because my dad is still dead and I miss him.)
Yet no one died. It was just my job, the one I love, the one that I am good at, the one that I have that was making me cry.
Let’s not blame the job though. The job is challenging, just the way I like it. The people that come with the job, ah well, isn’t that always where the problem lies.
And so I cried and cried because I just could not imagine how I would go back, the next day, today, and deal with the people.
I did it though, with He Man’s help and hugs and He Man’s advice.
And I was reminded that my job comes with other people too. People who care, who listen, who give good advice (and even a hug) too. And so now I can go back on Monday and carry on and do my job.
Someone I once knew was fond of saying that sooner or later everybody got promoted to their level of incompetence. I’m not there yet, I’m not even close. And so those people can just go suck it, because I don’t see The Boss taking them out for a slice of chocolate tart anytime soon.
Blah, blah blah, the Chairman droned on but David wasn’t listening. His thoughts were focused on Helen, sitting across from him and frowning down at her lap. David knew what Helen was thinking about, her pregnancy, a result of her one night only with the Chairman’s son. She was thinking about whether she should keep the baby and whether she could pass the baby off as her husband’s.
David looked over to Helen’s husband, sitting on the Chairman’s right hand side, his right hand man, his other son.
Helen’s husband, the Chairman’s right hand man, was smiling. The Chairman was singing his praises, yet another deal successfully concluded. After the Chairman’s blah there would be cake. And maybe champagne.
David looked to his left, to the man sitting next to him, the Chairman’s son, Helen’s baby’s daddy, David’s boss. He too was frowning, but not because he wasn’t the favourite son or because Helen was pregnant. His frown was caused by his stomach ache, a problem he had, had for some time. Mostly uncomfortable, sometimes really painful but seemingly nothing serious to see another doctor about.
David thought he should go see another doctor, that another doctor would do more tests, that another doctor would eventually realise that the pain was caused by the poison.
David smiled to himself. He knew who the poisoner was, he knew why the poisoner poisoned. He knew that soon the poisoner’s work would be done, the baby’s daddy would be dead and the favourite son would be thrilled at the news that he was going to be a daddy. David knew that the Chairman would be thrilled but only if the baby was a boy.
David knew all, everything, too much.
And David knew what he had to do.
Calmly he stood up, pulled the Chairman’s gun from his pocket and shot Helen in the head.
* I was in a meeting, I was bored, I wrote this. I did not know how it would end.
I threatened, I promised, I hoped and finally I did.
I quit Facebook.
It was something that I have wanted to do for the longest time and now, with a little nudge from He Man, it is done.
Like many I joined because I was curious. And in the beginning it was fun. I reconnected with an old friend and I even got to raise a dragon. But really it was all fake (especially the dragon, which was most disappointing). These friends on line who couldn’t spare me time for a cuppa and a chat off line. The requests to be part of their circle of “bestest friends eva” when the only reason I accepted their friend request (or they mine) is because Facebook is really all about who has the most “friends”.
And now, no more. Instead tonight I will spend my time with real people; talking with real people, laughing with real people, having a good time with real people.
I have been following Young House Love for quite some time. I am always impressed and inspired by the little and big things that John and Shelly do that slowly transform their house into their home. And since we moved into our own house just over a year ago, I have wanted to do the same.
I have big plans for the house. Actually it’s more like grand day dreams. Since we moved in we’ve done exactly zero home improvements and our décor style has been decidedly “this is what we moved in with and we haven’t been bothered to do, try or buy anything else”. I mean I would love to redo the master bathroom, as in totally rip out everything and start again but there really isn’t any kind of budget for doing that.
And I totally suck as the small things. For instance, I have decided that we really need more lighting in the lounge so last weekend I went shopping. I found myself in Mr Price trying to decide between a floor lamp versus a table lamp and table. When I did the quick mental arithmetic and realized that both options cost about the same, I got paralysed by indecision hence I still cannot curl up on the couch in the evenings and read a book.
But perhaps things are about to change.
Sometime last year He-Man’s Grampa had to move into an old age home so some of his possessions were given to his children and grandchildren. What came our way was this:
Actually we had a choice between two paintings and while I preferred the other one (purely from a subject matter point of view) this one is that one that made He-Man most think of Grampa.
The painting has hung in our bedroom on a nail that was left here by the previous owner and while I have come to appreciate the painting, I hated the frame. It was chipped and peeling and just way too much beige. I planned to get it reframed, hoping that the good and talented folk at the framing place would have some ideas of what to do to make more of the painting, but I just haven’t gotten round to it.
Then yesterday, inspiration struck. I was getting ready for the day (we were supposed to be attending a family picnic but He-Man was not feeling well) when it occurred to me that I could repaint the frame. And even better, I figured out what colours to go with. I impressed myself.
So, armed with some cash from He-Man’s wallet and his permission to repaint the frame I set off for Mica for some supplies.
He-Man helped me to remove the painting from the frame and then I got to painting. Then I waited for paint to dry. Then I painted again. Then I waited some more.
Something I did yesterday (while I waited for the paint to dry) was to finally organize my home décor ideas flip file. I made a pretty cover and created pages for each room in the house. Then I sorted out the few pictures I have saved and put them with the relevant rooms. Not a big deal but simply sorting that out helped to get new ideas flowing.
Then I painted and waited some more.
And herewith the results:
Not perfect and I am sure when my mom gets to see this she will wrinkle her nose ever so slightly in the way she does when she notices that it’s not perfect. It was harder to do then I thought it would be Mom, I tried.
But boy am I thrilled that I actually did it. I took a first step in doing something definitive in the décor department that worked out pretty well.
The other thing that worked out pretty well was laundry, because when you’re waiting for paint to dry, you can get a lot of laundry done.
PS – I realise that photographically speaking, the’before’ photo looks better – as in it’s a better photograph. I blame the photographer.
What a difference a day makes. Was it only yesterday when I could scoff at the notion of spending an entire day at the spa getting a facial, a massage, a manicure and a pedicure. And now, after a day spent doing just that, well, I get it.
This unexpected treat came along in the form of an invitation from a good friend to join her for a day at the spa. I was thrilled that she’d asked me to come along and really excited about spending my Saturday getting pampered.
But I was also nervous, having never had a spa day in my life before.
Like, for a start, what do you wear to the spa? Well, according to my friend, a tracksuit would do and if you’re getting a pedi, be sure to don a pair of slip slops so as not to ruin the paint job on the way out. Of course I don’t own a tracksuit so clearly I’m not cut out for this. No wait, I’ve got the slip slops, I’m good to go.
Of course what you wear is totally irrelevant because when you get there they give you other stuff to wear.
First there was the paper panty. I have a sneaky suspicion that I had it on back to front. But it was not uncomfortable and I think it protected my modesty during my pedicure so purpose served.
Next was the boob tube. Which I donned as a skirt because apparently I don’t know what the words ‘boob tube’ mean. The nice lady who squeezed god knows what out my face, yes the one who gave me the facial, set me straight. The gown was the only thing I got right in the dress up part of the programme.
The facial was steamy and quite relaxing, apart from the afore-mentioned squeezing part and I came out shiny like the sun. Tomorrow I shall be radiant.
My only complaint, wait, let’s not call it a complaint, it makes me sound petty and entitled. Let me start again. If I were asked how they could possibly improve the massage experience (not that they need to but you know, if they felt like it) then I would suggest that letting me nap for twenty minutes afterward would be nice. Really nice.
I have only myself and my clumsiness to blame for getting my manicure messed up before I’d even left the spa. Luckily some clear nail varnish has diminished the damage and if I can avoid dishes and housework for a week or two my manicure should last a week or two.
Would that I could schedule a regular spa day but there are those pesky ‘working for a living’ and ‘paying off a bond’ details getting in the way. However, it is nice to know what being a lady of leisure would entail should I ever get the opportunity to be one.
In the meantime I’m going to invest in a tracksuit, you know, because I want to be prepared.
Currently pretending it’s still Wednesday because that is when I wrote this and it was relevant then.
Currently googling how to kill my internet connection because it’s clearly trying to kill me with frustration but constantly dying on me. Uh, never mind Google.
Currently hoping that the Trojan people who make the condoms are not the same Trojan people who made my treadmill because a malfunctioning treadmill equals minor inconvenience but malfunctioning condom…
Currently contemplating sharing a little work related anecdote that probably won’t get me into trouble at work but my mom might be a little shocked.
Currently remembering that my mom doesn’t even know I have a blog. So, today I had to type the phrase “pull wire switch” and my first through was “guys have a switch for that?”
Currently grateful that the awesome pasta dish I made for dinner on Monday finally finished it’s run this evening. Day three spinach still tasty, day four spinach not.
Currently wondering how it is that I have typed the word ‘currently’ eight times in this post yet every single time I typed it, it came out as ‘currenlty’.