Relationships

My Top 10 Love/Hate Relationships

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15


I’m sitting here, sleepy, but can’t go to slumberville ’til the laundry‘s done. Yep, I do laundry on Saturday night. (My life truly is fascinating.) Waiting for the last load to dry, my fingers are itching to type, though, I’ve already posted one blog entry today. (It was really boring. You don’t want to read it. Has a poll. Really dorky.)

Anyhow, I was thinking about how much I hate doing laundry but love having clean clothes and just could not stop myself from sharing my thoughts on love/hate relationships. So, in no particular order, with the loves on the left and the hates on the right (don’t want you to start thinking I like cleaning), here goes …

1. Cooking/Cleaning Up the Kitchen

I really enjoy the process of cooking, especially when I have plenty of time and there are people around who enjoy a good meal. Scrubbing pots and pans, cleaning up the kitchen … Yuck!

2. A Clean House/Cleaning the House

There is something so comforting about a clean house. The fresh smell. Everything in order. Pure bliss. All the time and energy it takes to get it, not to mention keeping it, clean just wears me out. Lugging the vacuum up and down the stairs is the worst. If I ever won the lottery, the first thing I’d do is hire a cleaning service.

3. Anything Chocolate/The Calories in Chocolate

I don’t know who first discovered chocolate or making chocolate but that person deserves sainthood in my book. Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, chocolate covered anything — yum!  Gaining weight from all those calories in chocolate. Not so yum.

4. Driving/Traffic

I’ve been driving with a stick shift for almost 40 years. it makes driving more fun regardless of the kind of vehicle. A dump truck with a stick shift would be fun to drive. Traffic, however, is the armpit of driving. It’s smelly and obnoxious and, sometimes, hair-raising!

5. Getting Paid/Working

Money, money, money, money, money. Who doesn’t like having money? I don’t need a lot. Just enough to pay the bills and buy books and chocolate but, through some weirdly crooked twist of fate, I was not born into wealth. (Maybe I squandered money in a past life and this life is teaching me a lesson. Nah!) It’s not the working I dislike. I enjoy the work that I do. It’s the getting there that makes me bonkers — an hour-long commute is way too much traffic for me. I am thankful, though, that I have a job, especially one that I like.

6. Sunrises/Waking Up Early

A fresh new day. The first glimmer of light over the horizon. Looking out at God‘s beautiful creation with renewed vision each morning. On the flip side — the alarm clock, cleaning the litter box, commuting to work. Yuck!

7. Flower Gardening/Pulling Weeds

Roses, columbines, peonies, lilacs, hydrangea, lilies, iris, and a gazillion other blooming bits of beauty. Then there’s the crawling around on hands and knees yanking out the wildlings that threaten to strangle those beautiful buds. Did I mention the worms. Creepy!

8. Reading Books/The Cost of a Home Library

Literature, pop fiction, science fiction, fantasy, chick lit, the list goes on and on and I love them all.  You can find used books for pennies (well, quarters) all over the place. But if you’re like me, and have shelves full of books that have become old friends, it can be a budget buster. But, worth every penny!

9. Rainy Days/ Getting Rained On

My favorite day of the year is the first rainy Saturday in the Fall. I spend the whole day curled up in a big chair reading. It’s heaven on earth. Going out on a dark rainy day, however, is just asking for frizzy hair and drippy makeup. So, why can’t I remember that umbrella?

10. Cats/ Cleaning the Litter Box

Purring, softest fur, squeaky little meows – Emmie and Ollie! Why do they have to poop so much? You’d think once a day each would be enough. But, no, not these cats! And, always while I’m sitting here at my MAC with the cat box just around the corner in the powder room — a scant 10 feet away. And, why does Emmie always jump up on my desk right after doing her business?  Stinky!!

So, that’s my list. What’s on yours?

It’s about time!

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Do you ever notice people’s clocks?

I think clocks say a lot about who we are. Even if you didn’t buy it yourself, if you have it hanging on the wall or sitting around, that monstrously huge timepiece that plays a song every 15 minutes says a bit about you. I mean, let’s face it, most of us would chuck it into a closet if we didn’t like it.

My sisters’ clocks …

My youngest sister has a wall clock in her kitchen that chirps like a different kind of bird every 15 minutes. Personally, that would drive me bonkers but she really likes it. What does that say about her? I think it says she has a calm spirit that allows those chirps to just wash right over her. I, on the other hand, have a frantic spirit that makes every one of those chirps ding my brain whenever I hear them.

My other sister (the middle one) has the clock mentioned in the first paragraph. Somebody gave this masterpiece to her — and she really likes it. What I think this clock says about her is that she likes shiny things hanging on the wall and she likes being serenaded. As for me, when the music plays, loudly, it startles me (… it’s that frantic spirit of mine).

My tick-tockers …

So, about now you’re wondering what kind of clock(s) I have. Well, I have a clock hanging in the kitchen that I found at a local consignment shop (it’s from the 60’s, I think). It’s in the shape of a coffee cup with colors that match my kitchen wallpaper. So, what does it say about me?

Maybe it says that I like things to be matchy-matchy, or that I like vintage accessories, or that I’m thrifty, or maybe not. I think it says that I got really lucky and stumbled upon a neat clock for my kitchen and had sense enough to buy it. And, by the way, my kitchen clock doesn’t make even the slightest peep.

The clock in my bedroom, though is a whole other ballgame. It was a gift from Mom about twenty-five years ago. It’s a big mantle clock but, in my opinion, not too terribly over the top. (I’d have a pic but I’m too pooped to climb the stairs.) It does, however, chime every 15 minutes and strikes the hour much like a grandfather clock. (It even sort of looks like the top of a grandfather clock.) So, why do I keep it (in my bedroom no less) even though it makes noise? What does it say about me?

Hmmm, I think it says that I like knowing what time it is in the middle of the night but don’t want to have to turn on the light and/or dig in the drawer of my bedside table to find my glasses so I can see the alarm clock next to my bed. Besides, waking up in the middle of the night and hearing that soft chime makes me feel secure … that all’s right with the world and that I can go back to sleep.

Silly?

Probably, but that’s okay, Mom gave it to me.

The definition of goofy stuff!

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I really hate it when I can’t get my goofy brain to shut down long enough to get to sleep. Especially when it’s 2:00 a.m. and I’m “too pooped to pop.” Somebody used to say that when I was a kid. Can’t remember who. Pity. Maybe trying to remember who said it will make me sleepy.

Maybe not.

What is it that makes a brain think about goofy stuff when it should be winding down, shutting off, lights out, nobody home, go away, come back tomorrow? I don’t know but I learned a long time ago to just go with it and try to do something constructive til I get sleepy enough to actually, you know, sleep.

I usually read my book but I finished it this morning and I don’t really want to start another one because, if I do, I’ll get caught up in the story and stay awake even longer. And then I’ll be too pooped to get my patio cleaned up tomorrow. It’s a real mess and, well actually, it’s an embarrassing mess and I’m surprised one of the busybodies from the condo board hasn’t already sent me a letter telling me that I’m violating some sacrosanct rule from on high. Oh yeah, and that it’s also a disgrace to the community.

I put a bench on my carport a few years ago and got a letter because we’re not allowed to put anything on the carport except vehicles that are in operating condition. Also, I made a neat bird house plaque for my unit numbers once and got a letter telling me that it didn’t conform and that I had to take it down. Being the trouble-maker that I am, I walked around the complex and saw no less than 5 different kinds of unit numbers so I wrote back and let them know about that. They (the all-powerful condo board) sent a notice to all condo owners specifying the exact kind of numbers we were supposed to have. By the time they got around to doing that, though, I’d already taken my neat bird house numbers down and put the old numbers back up.  Funnily enough, my old numbers didn’t conform to the policy. What did I do? I let them puppies stay right where they were … and they are still there.

As a general rule, I’m okay with having rules. Rules are mostly good. They help stave off chaos. But, some rules are just made to be broken.

In fact, I think when I finish my patio clean-up tomorrow (or, I guess it’ll be today) I’ll put my bench on my carport — right up next to the fence that separates it from my patio. I might even put a plant on it and sit my rusted-tin cat sculpture right next to it!

Ya-a-a-wn …

I think I can go to sleep now.

Nite.

PS: Goofy stuff — going outside at 2:00 am in your pyjamas when it’s 40 degrees to take a pic of your house numbers … and the cat.

z-z-z-z-z …