RTT: Letters Are Dead; And So Is Conversation

Because you know, the internet killed them. Just sayin'...

Okay I'm doing this new thing, because I'm already so random people can rarely follow my thought process in any way, called Random Tuesday Thoughts. Enjoy the link, you're very rude.

So I woke up and my back still felt like it's trying to ask for a new mattress through pain. I'm 23, not 43, and I feel like writing a letter to someone just because I'm laying on the floor. It's cold down here; I'm not happy about it.

Munchface was so excited about Lucky Charms and The Princess and The Frog this morning that she almost brought the roof down screaming out the window at the people cutting grass "OHMYGODIT'SAFWOGGIEONTHET.VANDMOMMASAIDI'MHERPINCESSSSSSSSSSS!"

Which, yes, we think it's hilarious when she says "princess" so we tell her she's Daddy's and Mommy's and Gramma's and that random person running on the other side of the lake's "pinCessssssss". But this morning, while my coffee was still brewing, my back was aching like a geriatric, and I hadn't completed my morning routine, she wasn't a princess, she was Satan's child. As she jumped up and down and danced around, I lost my nerve to scold her for screaming like she was getting beat up by the Gnomes, however, because it was so damn cute. I miss the simple joys of childhood.

I got an e-mail from my high school pen-pal. DUDE! PEN fucking PAL. You write LETTERS - not e-mails. I miss letters and cards and written sentiments to save forever. I miss seeing handwriting and beautiful or interesting stationery. I also actually miss phone calls. I prefer human interaction over e-mails and text messages, no matter how awkward it gets for me - that kept me grounded and always finding ways to adapt. Yes, I'm a socially awkward freak unless you put a drink in my hand and some good music in the background. Yes, I'm weird and most people find me extremely difficult to understand when I start prattling on about this and that. Learning to get along with people and communicating on a primitive level is good for me. It's good for you, too, so do it, dammit! 

Husband started out-processing today... insert sad face that quickly turns to a happy sigh of relief. I am going to miss my glorious Bull-DAWG nation (a.k.a Georgia) but at the same time, it's time for a change. We're headed for the dirty south... Louisiana. Yuck.

-- but anyhow! (see, there I go getting off-topic again - do try to follow)

The Housing people reminded us that we need to hire cleaners. I called Husband and told him to make sure that they knew I wasn't paying to hire someone to clean this damn house. I clean it ALL the time, every day, and if that's not good enough for them, they can pay for it.

The doors and window weren't sealed properly so every day I'm cleaning up a multitude of bugs and random particulates from the great outdoors off of everything. It's actually pretty disgusting since I have small person running around. Here, enjoy this picture of what happens when I don't dust for just two days --

my window - two days; just two days...

the corner next to the window (sans random big yellow spot)

So you can clearly see why I feel like I've done enough. They refuse to fix every problem from the busted door that floods my dining room every time it rains like it's trying to convince me to make an Ark for two of each bug, to the leaky roof that stained the floor and ceiling that they want me to pay for... oh well.

I'm on to another subject again...

Munchface told me yesterday that she was going to go to work for Husband and I decided to take a picture of it:

cue the "aww" and stuff...

My plants are starting to make me depressed. I saved them from our last house, where they were going to be demolished, and they've flourished from near dead tiny things, to big huge elephant ears - I can't save them this time. I'm going to miss them..

So my neighbor offered me $1700 for my mixer again. I tried to tell her she could offer me $10k for it and I'd still say no, but no one ever listens to me. I'm just going to stop answering the door. Munchface tells her she smells all the time - I don't get mad at her. That should tell you something.

I lost my favourite shirt. I'm sad about that. I had to wear something random today, which fits the topic of the blog, but not my mood. I look like zebra. My only belt is zebra print, my sunglasses are zebra, and now my shirt. I have a thing for zebra print, and I love it, but I didn't realize how ridiculous I looked until I walked by the mirror.

I just told Munchface not to be ugly (she was screaming about some outside toy she wanted to bring in the house) and she looked at me with her lazer beam ninja death eyes and said "but Momma, I petty pincess, I not ugee!" and walked away.

I was just pwnd.

I want to know how a silverfish got on my ceiling; also why it decided to drop onto my head. Un-cool.

And now for the end of my blahrghhhhhhh...

enjoy the squish face-