Depending on my mood, I might just do it for you when I'm there. :)
You make me miss the days when my Grandma Helen would visit and clean everything in her path. She was like an unstoppable yellow-gloved tornado until she just got too old. Foolishly, we used to prep for her visits, thinking if we outwitted her by cleaning ahead of time, she'd relax for awhile. Nothing doing. She'd find dirt we didn't even know we had.
I didn't know that tidbit of advice about potheads, drug tests and golden seal root. Really now?
Now I want to know, just what is it that jub sews? Welcome!
Not stupid. 4am. Pain. Blood. Not without reason to freak out. Really a good thing that it was nothing.
I called 911 once when I thought I heard something outside and it ended up being a branch or something sliding down my awning. The super nice police officer told me he loves false alarms, much better than an actual crisis.
Ok. The $12.75 emergency baster just turned into a $300 order.
Can't press send. Can't press send.
Just talked to mom. She's had a baster emergency (dad melted it. Bad dad! No cookie!)
It's very interesting where and how words/concepts/objects/songs enter into someone's consciousness. I know my mother has used a baster on poultry since I was a wee thing--I can visualise it clearly now. But the first time I
thought
baster was in response to a joking insemination context, and I can't let loose from that.
It makes reading some stuff a little different.
vw, don't press send. You've got that whole financial deal with your folks, and you don't want to be deadass broke. I bet you have plenty of equipment to complete most of the tasks you want to complete, plus Christmas is coming. Please don't press send.
Don't press send. Put it into a wishlist instead.
ita, I went there too, even though I first knew of the baster for its cooking purpose. Then I bleached my brain, because this is vw's mother, and I'm mad at my brain.
No, Cindy. So not stupid.
I called 911 once when I thought I heard something outside and it ended up being a branch or something sliding down my awning. The super nice police officer told me he loves false alarms, much better than an actual crisis.
Oh, dear. Have I ever told the I Love Lucy 911 story?
Don't press send.
What amych said.
I'd have a cleaning person in a heartbeat if I could afford it. Just once every two weeks or once a month, to do the deep-cleaning stuff I dislike doing. I don't mind picking up or vacuuming or doing the dishes, it's the shower-scrubbing and whatnot that bugs.
Dude, I love the deep scrubs, hate the picking up and dishes! Marry me!
