What a Princess. He’s in serious danger of being presented with broccoli rabe every night for the rest of his life. With olives.
I stopped by my Parents home yesterday morning. I found them in the basement, standing in a puddle of water, shining a flashlight at the ceiling. They had a leak, which turned out to be a problem with the water line to the icemaker in the kitchen fridge. Easy fix.
It was hard to pay attention because my Dad had this huge wad of cotton ball taped to his chin, where he’d cut himself shaving. Off he went to his appt looking like Marley’s ghost.
Last time I was over, my Dad was standing on a ladder (which made me want to kill him) putting up a curtain. The overhead fan was lazily whapping him on the head. Personally, I would have turned off the fan before I got on the ladder.
My Son, by dint of being large, managed to mangle towel racks in two bathrooms. He cheerfully stuffs the towel in so hard that he pulls the rack out from the wall. I pointed it out, he fixed it, thank you. Then he came home, slammed the back door so hard the furniture jumped, hollering ‘MOM” loud enough to levitate me off the couch. He was just saying hello in 20 yr old, but my ears are still ringing, not to mention the pesky heart attack.
My Mens are driving me nuts.
Somewhere along the way I decided that reduced access to LJ when Darth Vader attacks wasn’t worth worrying about.
I thought to myself: What a white person/first world problem. Sersly, this is what I get pissed about? I don’t think so.
I do have a Dreamwidth account. I think. I never go there. Other places I don’t go: Facebook, Google +, Linkdin (did I spell that right?) or Walmart.
In spite of being a dinosaur, somehow I thrive. There are lots of other ways to kill time.
Note to self: A whole lot of my life happens away from the computer screen. I have my family to irritate me.