Wednesday, January 14, 2015

The weird things I ponder throughout my day...

Mr. Andy Rooney
For those of you who may remember the late Andy Rooney on the TV news program, 60 Minutes, he was an amazing writer and storyteller. I'm not old enough to have followed his early career but what I do recollect were his end of show segments called, "A Few Minutes with Andy Rooney". Even as a young girl, he never failed to amuse, entertain and yes - even sometimes shock me - with what he could "grumble" about each week.  I ADORED him.  In fact, I believe I owe much of my satiric writing style to him (though I would never presume to be even remotely as talented as he was and of course, there's always my grammatical nightmares...Oh dear GOD in Heaven!)

There's a reason I'm mentioning Mr. Rooney and that's because his essays were about the most mundane things and yet we all - or at least I would anyway - shake my head in complete agreement with what he had to say.

YES, YES, I hate airline seat belts too!  The silver buckle thing-a-ma-gig cuts into my waistline most uncomfortably. And you're right, Andy!  Why are those stupid tray tables at such an odd angle? There's no way to balance my soda and read a book when there's air turbulence!  This man's a genius...

So today, as I ponder the frivolous and mundane (nothing unusual for me), the great Andy Rooney comes to mind.  Thank you, sir.  I dedicate this blog to you, however silly it may turn out.  Either way, I'm certain you'll find it "grumble" worthy.

*******************

Once upon a daylight dreary, while I pondered, gross and weary
Over a many weird and curious number of disgusting chores,
While I grunted, nearly panting, suddenly there was a flashing,
As if my mind were ranting, ranting o'er the dirty floors.
"Tis a crazy thought" I said, "ranting o'er the dirty floors -
Only this, and nothing more."

Yep, that's me; manic to a "T".  And, really, my dear friends and blog readers, what precisely does, To a "T" mean anyway?  I don't know.  I get so hung up on the strangest things that I have lists for my lists.  Then, I lose my lists!  Dammit!  I hate it when that happens!

Here's a few odd things.  Now I know I've mentioned hag hairs before, in fact, probably more than a crazy, hormonal, peri-menopausal woman should but I'm obsessed with them. For those of you whose heads are buried under rocks, do not know, happen to be or have been a crazy, hormonal peri-menopausal woman - hag hairs are those horrifying thick hairs which pop out haphazardly on a woman's face usually on the neck, chin, or upper lip. My particular issue with these little bastards is that they'll pop out for instance...OVERNIGHT! What's up with that? I'll be spot free when I go to bed yet it never fails that the ONE morning I don't check will be the day a long, black monster will materialize directly beneath my chin. Lovely! So attractive, Bri!

Why do I always have pen caps but no pens?  When I do happen across a pen, it's from an exotic hotel in a city I've never been to.  Now please, my husband does NOT take business trips. No sense going down that naughty path, people! Tsk, tsk!

This isn't intended to sound cruel; however, my boys don't have friends.  What they do have is Aspergers which is a form of social autism. They keep pretty much to themselves. I WISH they had friends and it truly breaks my heart that they don't so here's the caveat...where are all these socks that I don't buy coming from? My oldest kiddo has graduated and my youngest doesn't have gym class. SO who is throwing their socks into my laundry?  Should I leave some sort of note asking for soap money?  Curious.

I know I'm not alone in this other particular mystery.  I've seen strangers on the street with the same clothing malady but personally, I'm tired of it.  Those baffling little holes which appear on shirts without explanation. My only guess, it's the House Troll and he's getting on my last nerve.  Just today, for instance, as I was pondering another silly thought over my PB&J sandwich, I noticed a hole in my shirt right above my belly button.  Do you know how disconcerting this was? First of all, it's one of my favorite shirts and secondly, no one wants to see their belly button with peanut butter smeared all over their face.  Besides, just last year I had to bury - yes, bury - one of my all time favorite tie-dyes due to this issue.  I wore that tie-dye until it was in shreds and indecent but I didn't care.  It was out spite - damn Troll!

And finally, as I wipe clean every shred of holiday left in this house (is it evident that I'm not a fan of Christmas?), why is it that in December I find shreds of Easter basket grass not from last season but from many Easter baskets long ago?  Add insult to injury, come this 4th of July, I'll probably find bits and pieces of noble fir needles from my Christmas Tree under my dining room carpet.  I'm a meticulous neat freak to the point of mania and Q-tips.  How in the HELL does this happen? It's a conspiracy.

"Tis a crazy thought" I said, "ranting o'er the dirty floors -
Only this, and nothing more."