Tag: living

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I feel compelled to remark on the linked letter I found in the Slate advice columns.

The run down is six years ago she wanted to bring her new born baby home and she only wanted family to greet her. This means her husband had to 86 the nanny who was taken care of her older daughter. When she arrives home her nanny is leaving in tears because she thinks the woman doesn’t want her to met the new baby. So instead of enjoying the baby, she had to comfort the nanny. Six years later she is still mad about the nanny ruining her special day.

Really? I mean REALLY. This is a problem.

First, the nanny was already at her home, taking care of her other kid. Her husband had to ask the nanny to leave so only family would be there when she arrived. Now, I grant the husband may have botched asking the nanny to leave but she put the husband in a difficult position in the first place — a family only guest list which could have been ruined in any number of ways. A neighbor could have come by with food at the same time or been working in the yard as she drove up. Those are two off the cuff examples. Given some more time, I am sure I can think of some more. The point here is there is no way to control other people even on your special day. One of life’s little lessons is to learn how to roll with the punches.

Second, the nanny was at your house already. She had to be asked to leave. It’s awkward. If I were the nanny, I might feel a little insulted at the request. Does it really ruin your special day if the nanny hung around to met the new baby that she will soon be caring for. The nanny could have had quick cootchy cootch coo and left. But no, the nanny had to be gone are it would ruin your special day. Ruin it. Her special day.

Third, I have heard of wedding days being a special day for the bride and birthdays although there should be an age limit on that one. But bringing home the baby from the hospital? When did that become such a special day to the point where the mother tries to control the guest list for her arrival home. Her expectations are way too high for the occasion involved.

Finally, six fucking years ago. This happened six years ago. Give it a rest. You have two kids looking up to you to as a role model. Try not to model behavior that will make them into whinny ninnies

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Every night, Cisco, my cat, and I go for a little walk in the corridor of our apartment. He saw Bob and I leaving from our front door and figured out that this is the way out, possibly to freedom. At first, he just roamed the halls but after a little while he realized that there were other doors and that those doors could be opened too. So now he stops at the other apartment doors, stretches his body towards the door knob signalling to me that he wants the door opened. When I fail to open the other people’s doors, he looks up at me with disgust.

I tried to make it up to him by opening the doors that led to the trash bins and the fire escape doors which he did enjoy but he still stops at other people’s front doors expecting me to open. I hate to disappoint him. I think I am losing the respect of my cat. A terrible thing.

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I haven’t been to a concert in quite some time but apparently pooping in your seat so you don’t miss any of the show is now a thing.

Well, I don’t know what to say about this except I don’t think missing a few minutes of a concert, and I am talking about the Beatles here or the Rolling Stones or anyone for that matter, would cause me ever to decide to take a dump on my seat at a concert in front of thousands of other people just because I don’t want to miss “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” What the fucking fuck. WTFF.

And this article is blaming it on kids brought up during COVID. You mean that kids who were brought up to wash their hands a million times a day and wear a face mask to stop the spread of disease are going to find it perfectly OK to spread their diseased filled fecal matter to thousands of unsuspecting music fans? Huh?

GEEZUS.

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What kind of asshole kicks a sea lion? For fun? And his friends laughed? So, what a bunch of assholes. To top it off, also kind of stupid because what would have happened if the sea lion decided to fight back?

Don’t say this is typical teen age fun either. Hurting an animal for your own amusement is sadism and is unacceptable. Let’s see what happens to the young man at sentencing. Not much, I am afraid.

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Things I ask myself now, at 69, before getting on the floor:

1.) Is what I am going to do on the floor worth the effort to get off the floor when I am done?

2.) Is there anything near that I can use to leverage myself off of the floor when I am need to stand up?

3.) Can this wait until there are more things on the floor that I need in order to maximize my floor experience? Honestly, why pick up an errant spoon when you can wait for the knife and fork to fall later.

4.) Can this wait until a more youthful friend (say late 50’s) shows up and I can casually ask them to help me like I just noticed it now?

5.) Will anyone really notice if I don’t do what needs to be done of the floor? A good kick towards the couch will hide anything you don’t really need to immediately retrieve.

6.) Is there a pillow within grabbing distance so if I have to stay longer on the floor than necessary I can, at least, be comfortable?

7.) Do I have my cell phone in case I find myself unable to get off of the floor?

8.) Do I have enough clothes on so that nobody, particularly me, is embarrassed if I need to call someone to get me off the floor?

9.) Should I leave the door unlocked so the person who is rescuing me has easy access to my apartment?

10) Why is it that everything I need right now is on the floor?

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A few backs I reported that my spider, who very cleverly incorporated the light cord on our porch into her web, is missing. I looked at the light cord the other day and saw this:

She is back. Or one of her daughters is. Although she has irritated me a little because I now have to stand on my tippy toes to reach the cord but it is a small price to pay to work with such a creative animal.

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I am about to confess something horrible about myself. I am warning you in case you want to opt out of further reading. I totally understand. Nobody likes to hear people’s confessions. Oh you think it will be fun at first, hearing people’s deepest darkest secrets but I am pretty sure it turns in to repetitive stories about self abuse on lonely Saturday nights and deliberately not ringing up an item at the self check out at the grocery store. So, believe me I understand. 

Any way my confession. Bob and I are looking into pre-paying our funerals because, well, I am told it is the right thing to do. I agree in principle but I am finding myself really reluctant to commit. It isn’t fear about talking about death either which would be a legitimate reason for avoiding the purchase. I, in fact, researched the costs with three different companies and talked in more depth with one woman. 

No, it isn’t fear. It is greed. Every time I think about paying for my funeral I think why I am paying for this? Shouldn’t my heirs? I mean I am giving them money, the least they can do is pay for my funeral. I would much rather they take it out of their cut from my will than for me to give up the money now when I can be buying expensive cocktails at overpriced restaurants.

Furthermore, what do I care about disposing of my body. I mean. Shit. I am dead. Do I have to do everything? Do what ever you want with my body but really why should I spend the precious time I have left figuring that out. Fuck it. All I can say is – if you can have some fun with my dead body, have at it as nothing would please me more than knowing that my body came in handy for a few practical jokes. Otherwise, who cares and why should I be the one to do something about it? What are they going do about if I don’t, I will be dead. 

I can’t get the proper motivation to do anything about it. I know this sounds terrible. The reoccurring explanation for pre-planning is do you want your loved ones, who are in mourning, to figure this all out during this really sad, possibly traumatic, moment in their life and, again, I am sorry to say, yeah why not. I mean their day has already been ruined with my death. Why should I ruin my day too by paying for it. Besides, planning my funeral might give them an opportunity to take their minds off the large empty void my absence will cause in their lives and focus on something really important — getting me in the ground so they can go out and spend whatever is left of my 401K. And, since I am already making confessions and this make me even a worse person, I am genuinely planning to have no money left when I leave this mortal coil. So I will be sticking my heirs with the full funeral costs out of their pocket book. Sorry heirs.