Potpourri Pot (heh heh I said "pot")

This is going to be a little bit of everything.  Total mish-mash.  Lots of things to talk about, none of them worthy of their own entire post.

Remember that midlife crisis I had last fall?  Yeah it's still going on.  Yesterday morning I was on the phone with Hitter (he was out of town over the weekend) and he tells me that his HR guy had sent him an email about a new job opportunity (just a new role within the same company)  This is not surprising, this company plays apple-cart-upset about every 18 months or so, and Hitter's been in this same role for 3 years now, so he's WAY overdue for a shakeup.  Of course I never really look forward to these games of corporate musical chairs, because this happens:

Yeah.  That's a lot of fun to deal with.  Side effects include irritability, short temper, complete lack of understanding, and general assholedness.  Except he's already been like that lately with the current position, so how much worse can the transition to something new be? 

Famous last words.

So anyway, I just kinda went "yeah whatever okay" when Hitter mentioned possible new position.  Right up until he said that it would involve a move.  And then my emotions got on the biggest baddest roller coaster ever. 

Just a few colors short of a Jackson Pollock painting

"OMG I might actually get out of Hillbilly Hell?!"

"Wait, when I imagined moving away, it wasn't to go to the east coast.  Ugh"

"Well, we wouldn't stay there for more than 2 or 3 years, I can do that.  And I'd get to move!"

"Hitter would never go for that, he couldn't be that far from his family"

"God what an ass, he is the reason I am so miserable!  Why won't he move away from here?  I hate Hillbilly Hell!"

"Wait, I'm a shitty wife.  Could I really move that far away?  I'd have to fly EVERYWHERE and I hate to fly.  So really I'm just blaming him and using him as the scapegoat but I wouldn't like it either"
"But there might be work and/or school opportunities out there that don't exist here"

"But the east coast is one giant city running into the next giant city, and my biggest problem here is that it's a freaking city"

"Seriously though, I want to get the hell away from this damned place!  I don't even care where I'm going next"

"Although... I'd have to leave my house and my pool and I kinda like them.  And I probably wouldn't get anything I'd like out there"

"But it would be an opportunity to get away from everything around here that's making me miserable, including my family."

"Except I probably won't be happy out there either.  I'm not sure if I've ever been happy.  And I don't think I ever will be happy.  Ugh.  Just... ugh."

It's like the lamest roller coaster ever.  Anyway the good news is I don't need to worry about it anymore because Hitter said he isn't taking it.  He wouldn't like the work, it's way out of his comfort zone and possibly not even something he really agrees with.  Althoug who knows with him, because he pretty much agrees with anything the Beloved Corporation does. 

So I think I'll quit thinking about that.  Or maybe I'll just quit thinking.

Random Internet Stupidity:

I got this in an email.  Don't get me wrong, I love me some Mike Rowe... *drool*... but seriously?  He's doing videos telling idiots they need to get their oil changed?  Wow.  I can't decide whether to be more annoyed by Ford thinking they need to make videos telling people that if the check engine light comes on you'd better... well... check the engine, or by the fact that I think Mikey boy has finally hit the "overexposure" status.  Perhaps a while ago. 

His voice is still dreamalicious though. 

New subject: my year-in-pictures is still going, although sometimes it's not very interesting.  I made it all the way to oooooooh about January 11 before I realized that some days I just don't have anything photo-worthy in my life.  So I've been randomly filling the boring days in with extra pictures from interesting days.  In some ways, that's probably a good thing though.  Then I can remember that good things do happen sometimes, and occasional boring days aren't the end of the world.  [/philosophical comments]  And then there were a couple days when I had specific pictures in mind that I wanted to use on those specific days... didn't get the pictures... and then didn't update the album. 

Today I had to catch up on two weeks worth of pictures.  There was much procrastination of anything that others would consider "productive".  Kitchen's still a mess, house didn't get cleaned, dog needs more exercise (although thank goodness the co-dependent beast actually spent an entire half hour in the back yard today without me) laundry didn't get done, trim didn't get painted, closets didn't get decluttered, office stuff didn't get organized, and most importantly, Hitter's model train didn't get landscaped.  Most importantly to him anyway.  I really don't care much, and I didn't feel that his hobby needed to be prioritized above mine, but I'm probably still going to catch hell for it tomorrow when he gets home.  *sigh* 

I think that's enough for now.  Way past my bedtime. 

Oh great, I have a creepy stalker

As usual, I feel compelled to refer my readers back to a previous post, this time the sleepless adventure.  It's an obsession, don't mind me.  And it turns out I apparently have at least three readers!  There's Best Friend in the Eastern time zone, Best Friend in the Mountain time zone, and a new reader who works for a company that manufactures a product I previously referenced.  I'm not going to say which one, but the item in question is a piece of furniture upon which people sleep... using their number...  and I hate said product. 

I mean it's one thing to want people to read your blog.  But I'm not sure a customer service rep was exactly what I had in mind.  Especially one who is trying to convince me to love Hitter's bed.  First of all, how cushy of a job is that where he just reads blogs all day searching for product complaints?  Secondly, it was NOT a robot-reply, a human being had actually read what I wrote and looked at my pictures.  He referenced things that were very specific to me.

Also, I'm definitely not posting about this on Facebook... one of my nerdy high school friends will correct my damned grammar!  Asshole.  I didn't really mind the first comment too much, but the second friend thanking the first one kinda pissed me off.

I seem to be on a tangent. 

Moral of story here is new readers are good, creepy customer service stalkers are creepy.  (Clarification: new readers who are NOT members of my family, or friends of members of my family, or who would in any way shape or form let this crap get back to my family.  I think I need to delete all the family stuff and then not worry about whether or not the blog goes public)

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Sleep is my favorite hobby.  Wait, is sleep a hobby?  Sleep is my favorite pasttime?  Activity?  (wait, activity?!?  really?  I don't think so) Whatever, this girl likes to sleep. 

Anyway, I've developed a bit of a problem since getting married.  Here is my favorite sleeping position:

Yes I do sleep under bedding, but that makes it kinda hard to see what's going on in the picture.  Don't argue with my art.  As for what's going on in that picture, I'm taking up an entire queen size bed because I sprawl when I'm sleeping.  It's all arms and legs everywhere!  And my grandpa (not The Corporal, the other grandpa) used to call me a windmill in a tornado.  Apparently I didn't just sprawl and stay there, I liked to flail those arms and legs around a lot. 

Now that we have a queen size in the guest room (used to be a double bed until it broke... don't ask) my second favorite sleeping position is:

it sucked when it was a double bed, because that really is pretty much the proper scale on size of Muppy and how much bed he takes up.  I apologize for the crappy drawing, I haven't mastered the fine art of Muppy drawings yet.  He kinda looks like a weird cow/horse hybrid.  In real life, he's a weird dog/cat hybrid, but that's a story for another day. 

Now for my least favorite sleeping position:

Now part of me wants to blame Hitter's stupid sleep number bed.  I have hated that thing since the day he bought it (also a very long story for another day... the short version is "whatever Hitter wants, Hitter gets, whether I agree with it or not) And another part of me wants to blame the fact that he refuses to let me have a TV in the bedroom... he claims he can't get to sleep if there's a TV on, even though when we're in a hotel he turns the TV on and sets the sleep timer and falls right to sleep, and almost every time we sit on the couch and watch TV together he falls asleep, but NOOOOOOOOO he can't sleep with a TV in the bedroom *eye roll*  (the reason I want a TV is because I have trouble turning my brain off at night, if I just lay in the dark and quiet I start thinking... and thinking... and everything bad or scary or evil or whatever starts spinning around in my head and then I really can't sleep, so I turn on something mind-numbing... TV when I'm sleeping alone, or I stuff the ear buds of my ipod in when I have to sleep with Hitter) (longest string of words in parentheses in history) 

Anyway, part of me also suspects that it's just the presence of him in bed with me.  Sometimes I'll wake up with his elbow in my back, a lot of times I wake up with no covers, he snores and Muppy doesn't...

I can't sprawl...

Oh, and back to the stupid sleep number bed, unless we have the stupid thing at pretty similar numbers, it's like we're playing a sleepy game of king of the mountain.  One of us is way up high, and the other is down in a valley.  Sleep number is especially stupid in queen size because if you like the bed firm, then you're essentially sleeping on top of one of those stability balls, and if you like the bed soft then you're in a hammock.  Because your air pocket for your side of the bed is literally smaller than a twin bed. 

The biggest problem is I can't just go sleep in the guest room, because oh heaven forbid!  If we don't sleep in the same bed every night, then we're going to get divorced!  Oh my! 

*eye roll*

Never mind the fact that a sleep-deprived-me is a lot more likely to want to leave him than a got-a-good-night-sleep-in-the-other-room-me. 

Men are stupid.  So are queen sized sleep number beds. 

So Much For Saving The Planet

Did you know Compact Flourescent Lightbulbs (you know, those little swirly "environmentally-friendly" lightbulbs) are full of mercury?  Yep, I did.  Which is all fine well and dandy as long as you take your burned out bulbs for recycling and you don't break one.

Wait, what?

Crap. 

Last night I was really tired but I was really grumpy and sick of sleeping in the same bed with Hitter (long story...) and I was full of beer and margaritas (who thought mixing the two would be a good idea?!?) so I sent Hitter to his bed and I headed to the guest room to read for a while (aka, stay awake until he falls asleep, and then I sleep in the guest room and am happy)

And then I tipped over my reading lamp. 

And then my CFL broke.

Have I ever mentioned that any small tiny little bit of logic I have during daytime hours turns into a mass of paranoia in the middle of the night?  It's really not pretty.  That's why I always go to bed with my ipod ear buds in, but that isn't the point of this story. 

Well considering this was midnight, so my freak-out-brain was in full freak-out mode, I decided this one broken bulb meant that I was going to die of mercury poisoning.  I searched the internet, which is also a bad thing for a paranoid hypochondriac at midnight.  Remember the triple-cancer-plus-AIDS episode?  Right.  I really shouldn't be allowed to be on the computer between sundown and sunrise.  There are conflicting reports left and right on the interwebs... and not even tree-hugging-hippie pages vs I-just-can't-be-bothered-to-care websites.  I mean one state's EPA vs another state's EPA.  Some were all "well, yes mercury is bad but as long as you ventilate the room for 15 minutes and wear gloves while you remove all the broken glass, using sticky tape to pick up any remaining shards, you'll be okay" but others were "OMG WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!  You need to remove the carpet, you need to get a HEPA mask, you need to not use that room for like months, maybe even call in an environmental disaster clean up crew to your house" *eye roll* 

Did I mention I get paranoid in the middle of the night?  Well I didn't tear out carpet or call the EPA disaster response crew.  But I did open the window in the bedroom all night... and it was 14 degrees out.  Somehow I think the furnace having to run extra canceled out any possible environmental benefits of using the CFL.  (I would like to point out though that I was smart enough to close the door to that room... I didn't just have random open window straight to the thermostat.  I'm only half stupid.  In fact I even closed the floor vent and taped over the cold-air-return and stuffed a blanket under the door.  I'm thorough like that)

And then I remembered that when I was a little kid, I bit the end off an old-fashioned mercury thermometer.  Yeah, in my mouth.  And then when I was a slightly older kid, I broke another thermometer in my mashed potatoes.  (I didn't want to go to school the next morning so I thought "hey I'll stick this thermometer into my steaming hot food so it'll look like I have a fever!  too bad the taters were about 3000 degrees and I exploded the thermometer)

So I think I'm either already a mad hatter, or I'm immune. 

(Did you know that the phrase "mad as a hatter" came from mercury poisoning?  no joke.  I'm a veritable fountain of useless knowledge) (also, my great-grandma was a milliner.  that might explain a lot) 

Oh, and another symptom of mercury poisoning is mood swings.  I told Hitter today on the way home from church that I've been pretty steadily pissed off for the last 3 days, so a mood swing would be a welcome change.  There's nowhere to go but up.

I don't think I'm poisoned.  I'll let you know if I start trembling violently.  My drawings will get worse.  Or better, I'm not sure.

And I'm going to stockpile old-fashioned lightbulbs.

Get out of my head! Leave my brain alone!

After the last post, I did some real soul searching

imagine my surprise when I found I do have a soul!

and I came up with a plan for my life.  A happy plan.  Am I ditching my idiot family?  No *sigh*  Am I running away to a far-away land?  Also no *double sigh*  Am I taking control of my life and figuring out a way to do something I enjoy?  

 I'm not going into the boring details right now, but the short version is that the plan includes getting a job or going to school or both.  Or something entirely different.  But regardless of how stupid this paragraph is, I do have a plan.

Big props to Best Friend - Mountain Time and Best Friend - Eastern Time for all their love and support through this struggle I've been dealing with!  MT has endured countless pout/whine/cry emails and has helped me sort through the jumble, and just this past weekend I was visiting ET and she also listened to the story (although I'd already mostly organized it by the time I saw her) and she helped me put a little polish on it.  You two are freaking awesome.  And you need better nicknames.  Kudos to Designated Hitter too, regardless of how he really feels about it he has been saying all the right things and appears to be genuinely supportive.  Even if he's lying and a big fight comes later, those who know him know that even pretending to want what's best for me is a big deal coming from him.  And who knows, he might even be truly supportive.  I kinda think he is but I'm afraid to get my hopes too high.

I headed for home yesterday, and even though I was in Marvin the Paranoid Car I was still flying high.  (To the authorities: I was high on life.  Not meth)  I was so happy I almost didn't mind that it took me around 1.5 hours to go 12 miles at one point.  I was feeling good about myself and my life plan.  Got to the hotel last night, caught up with Hitter for a while, and went to bed.

And then the "fun" started.

I had this horrid dream... I am not entirely sure of the setting, there were a lot of weird bits and pieces that I can't figure out, that's pretty normal for me.  But the part that caused me to wake up in a cold sweat was a scene where my parents were yelling at me because I want to go back to school and they don't want me to.  Okay I don't even know how they truly feel about it, because I haven't discussed this with them and I'm not going to until after the plan is not only decided upon but is already set in motion.  If I go back to school, I may not even tell them until after classes have started.  If I get a job, HR will have already filed my paperwork before they know anything about it.  But that apparently doesn't stop them from yelling at me in my dreams.  

Okay in case that isn't abundantly clear, it's my brain, Designated Drinker poking it with a cattle prod, and Bran Flake doing Riverdance on it.  

In my dream, they were telling me I was stupid for thinking about going back to school and that I'd always said I was just perfectly happy being the dumb lab rat so why do I think giving that up and going to grad school is a good idea.  And lots of other things.  I woke up so mad at them for never being supportive of me.  Everything I ever want to do, try to do, dream about doing... they tell me my ideas are stupid and I should do what they want me to do.  And then they take things I've said in the past and use them against me.  

Can you divorce your parents?  

Of course, once I got my bearings (including remembering I was in a hotel) I realized how illogical that was... first and foremost I'm not giving up being a lab rat because I'm currently not a lab rat!  (sidebar: I use the term "lab rat" to mean me as an employee who is conducting the experiments in question, not actually being the test subject)  And secondly, to hell with them.  They never understand anything I want to do, so why should I expect them to now?  Hence my plan to not even mention The Plan until after it is already in progress and there's nothing they can do about it. 

And before anyone says "maybe that was just your subconscious trying to make sure your big plan is realistic" well I actually think I've been fairly realistic about the pros and cons of The Plan.  In fact, I'm kind of a pessimist these days.  But that really is the way my parents have treated me in the past.  The best approach I can take to that dream is that maybe it was my subconscious trying to prepare me for the insanity and make sure I'm determined to not say anything to those idiots until it's too late for them to voice their opinion.

Of course, that won't stop them.  A couple years ago Hitter and I bought a new house.  It may not be the perfect place, but it's pretty close to my dream house.  The first time the parental unit came to visit (long after we'd already closed, signed the mortgage, moved in, etc) and Flake is all "well how are you going to feel if the neighbors tear down all their trees and build a bunch of houses back here?"  Umm... what possible point does this comment serve?!  

1. you are already fully aware that it would piss me off

2. there isn't anything anyone can do about it now because we've already bought the house

3. fuck off!

So I must be prepared for the negativity and the control-freakiness and all the other crap that will come from those idiots. 

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans

I'll be the first one to admit I have very little going on in my life.  I don't have a real job, I don't have kids, I'm not caring for an elderly relative or doing a crapload of volunteer work or anything.  And yet somehow I manage to always be saying "I didn't have time to get everything done I wanted to"  I'm not sure if that's because I really am busy or if it's because I do a lot of stuff that is stupid and pointless while I procrastinate the important things or if I just over-schedule myself. 

My crowning glory right now is that I was in my pool 7 days in a row.  No, not 24-7.  That would have made pruny fingers

the least of my worries.  But I did dip at least once each day for 7 days.  That streak came to an end today.  I opted for a 3 hour nap instead. 

Company was fun, especially the non-pedophile high school girls weekend.  The time with Bran Flake wasn't even all that bad.  She's a little more active than I am, and we didn't do a whole lot of entertainment stuff, but it wasn't bad.  Oh, except for one thing.  One of the high school friends is pregnant... she announced it here... so I emailed Flake (who earned her flaky nickname) and she got all excited and emailed a congratulations note TO THE WRONG GRANDMOTHER-TO-BE.  *sigh*  And not even like she accidentally just put in the wrong email address.  I had written the email saying who was knocked up, and mom read the email but her brain didn't read the name I had typed.  Guh.  I need to quit talking to that woman.  She's so airheaded about everything unrelated to her own grandchildren (and even then, one of them is by far the favorite.  I haven't figured out yet if it's cuz she was the first grandchild or if it's because she's a girl or some other stupid reason, but definitely favorite grandchild.  I'm so glad I don't have children who would need to compete for grandma's love)

The rest of our summer is going to be insane.  I'm going to be out of town almost more than I'm going to be home.  *sigh*  Not really looking forward to this at all.  This is about the time I start to consider getting a real job just so I have something to force me to stay home.  Someone just shoot me now and take me out of my misery. 

Guano in my Belfry

Yep, I'm bat-shit crazy.  But so is everyone else, so it evens out. 

I apparently got a good night's sleep last night... for all of 5.5 hours.  Seriously, I'm less hypochondriac now than I have been in at least two weeks.  I need a massage though, my shoulders and the back of my head are pretty much twitching.

A brief rundown of all the insanity I am exposed to:

1. My family.  Same Shit Different Day.  Buffalo and the Prom Queen are still dating, and are apparently going on a vacation together.  Drinker and Flake still think this is all about them.  And Prima Donna and the Corporal still think they rule the roost.  To add insult to injury, they were given an honor in our little podunky town by other non-related people so they have even had a GROWTH in ego.  Just what they need.  (the insult and injury are to the rest of us, it really is an honor for them that I would have been excited about if it had been before now)

2. The wildlife.  Apparently the skunk moved out the day we set the traps, so we have caught no skunks.  Then my crazy trailer neighbor shot the groundhog, so I paid for traps to catch a non-existent animal.  Although something has dug out the groundhog hole again.  I'm thinking Quikrete down the hole.  And poison. Probably poison first, then Quikrete.

3. Fuck, there was supposed to be something else here but I forgot.  I'll get back to you. 

 4. Company.  Actually they aren't so insane.  Well, the first half of them anyway.  This weekend is high school girls weekend which isn't nearly as pedophile as it sounds.  Friends of mine who I went to high school with.  Not girls who are currently in high school!  We're going to drink a lot.  It will be fun.  I hope I don't die.  But as soon as they leave, Bran Flake is showing up.  Possibly meeting them in the driveway...  She and I usually have fun on our Mother-Daughter vacations, but that was before my family turned into a complete clusterfuck.  So.... yay? 

I should be cleaning the house to get ready for girls weekend.  Scratch that, I should be painting!  But so far in the last two days, I have a) picked blueberries, b) gone shopping (to Home Depot, but that counts, right?), c) taken a nap, d) gone out to supper with my ex-husband* and then went to his house for a couple hours, e) watched two movies, f) made slushie drinks (okay those are for girls weekend.  I'm making margarita slushes, bourbon slushes, and sloe gin slushes.  and possibly fruity margarita slushes too, the first batch was lime), and g) I am now heading out to the pool.  Umm, maybe I should mow first.  Although it's damned hot out (check local listings) so maybe I should procrastinate that just a little longer... till like 8:00 tonight.

I put the PRO in procrastinate.

If you are fully aware of the fact that you're crazy, does that mean you aren't really crazy?

*I don't really have an ex-husband.  I'm sure I'll explain that whole story another time.  

Morning Person = Evil

Why exactly are morning people vilified?  What did I do to deserve this?  I wake up at 5:00 no matter what time I go to bed.  No alarm clock.  3 hours of sleep or 9, doesn't matter.  (Although do you have any idea how hard it is to get 9 hours of sleep when you wake up at 5:00?  You have to go to bed when it's still light out)

Why is it that society loves these people

who are all grumpy and irritable and worship their coffee pot?  (those are steaming coffee mugs)  They stand around and compare notes on who is more sleepy like it's a badge of honor.  Yay!  I'm sleep deprived!  Except I'm way too tired to say yay or use exclamation points!  I'll just go pretend to work for a few hours until I can go home and stay up all night.

And then there's me.

I don't know what my legs are doing.

I didn't know what my legs were doing last night either.  The Creepin' Heebie Geebies are a real bitch.  I think it's probably technically Restless Leg Syndrome, but I have White Coat Phobia so I don't know what I really have, nor do I have medication to fix the problem.  I'm also a hypochondriac and love disorders with funny names.  Restless Leg Syndrome = not funny.  Creepin' Heebie Geebies = somewhat less not-funny.  Also fictitious.  Did you know I have something that is truly and honestly called Exploding Head Syndrome?  It's not nearly as cool as it sounds.  I have never had to scrape my brains off my headboard.

But I digress...

You know, now that I look at that picture, I kind of hate morning people too.  I really want to tell myself to sit down and shut up!  I started at the wrong end of the story.  Fast forward to about 8:30 that evening.  Night people are all "woo hoo!  Let's go out!  It's time for a party!"  And I'm yawning because I'm sleepy and ready for bed.  And they call me a loser.  And I'm sad.

So let's recap: in the morning, the "normal" people are sleepy and the annoying people are awake.  In the evening, they are partying and the losers are getting ready for bed. 

Anyway, I'm awake and perky.  Even though I only got 4 hours of sleep last night.  I'll be ready for bed before the Designated Hitter is even ready for dinner tonight.  I'll never be popular.  You have to be tired in the morning and love coffee to fit in.  I'm an annoying loser.