When a broken purse is the least of your woes

Yesterday was a ridiculous day, from my series of June’s Ridiculous Days.

The newsletter went out at work yesterday, and I am the editor of it, and newsletter day is always a bit chaotic. Then, at lunch, I screamed home and finished that perpetual calendar I’ve been droning on about all week. I finished it, sent it to the client, and even invoiced her. I pretty much gave myself seven strokes for $200. Yay!

Then when I got back to work, I had a project I was working on very hard, and the second I finished it, I had to delve into something for another team, something enormous, where they did the thing that they said, “This has GOT to be done by end of day. We’ll give copy edit two hours to do it.”


I’m afraid I attached notes to two of the pages. “This page alone would take a copy editor an hour to do correctly.” It was a slew of company names, like 50 of them, that not only needed to be looked up for spelling, but now every company in the world has to DoThis to their name, and I had to make sure we didn’t have any normal-looking names that should have been NormalLookingNames.

Then two other pages were all math all the time. I had to [shiver] add things and [barf] average things. Oh, but go ahead and do that and copy edit the other 41 pages in two hours.

Good lord.

So I did a shabby chic job, where I worked as hard as I could as fast as I could, and I promise I missed something with my speed, but I got it in, and at 5:03 I got another email. “You still here? We need this done, too.”

So I stayed and edited another smaller thing, and rewrote some of it, and did my very best, and at about 5:35 I was finally done. My shoulders were concrete.

Finally, finally, I said, “Wow, I wonder what happened with m’blog today” not that I have a blog. So I got on my blog, and was scrolling past that picture where Steely Dan was asleep on my leg,

and THAT is when the president of the company walked past my desk.

Not all day, when I was KILLING my own self working as hard as possible. No. When I was LOOKING AT CATS ON THE INTERNET.

I have no idea if he saw or not, but, oh, how I wanted to chase him down and say I’VE BEEN KILLING MYSELF ALL DAY.

I took my defeated concrete shoulders home, and you know what? Fuck it. I did NOT freelance last night. My friend The Other Copy Editor and her husband bought a beautiful old house near Ned’s house, almost fmr., and turned it into a B&B. On Wednesdays they have Wine Wednesdays, and you know what sounded delicious?

Wine Wednesday.

You’ll be stunned to hear Ned was down for going to this, as he occasionally likes to have a drink.


With my Weight Watchers and so on, I haven’t had a drink in ages. Well. Last week I had a chardonnay with The Poet at The Movies. The point is, the idea that I was going to have wine was so exciting. I ate cereal for dinner so I’d have enough points, and I was like Clarence when George Bailey takes him to Martinis. “Why it’s been so long, I…FLAMING RUM PUNCH! Off with ya, my lad and be lively!”

I get to Ned’s, and I want you to sit down.

“Why don’t we walk there?”



I had cute little sandals on, a thing he refused to acknowledge. “I have on fancy shoes, too,” said Ned, in his regular work shoes. He makes you feel like lazy rabble if you DON’T walk, so with all the resentment one can hold in one’s bones and bone parts, I fucking walked to the B&B.

It’s like three blocks.

Portrait of an Assholian Forced-Walk Asshole

The thing I miss the most about living at Ned’s house, almost fmr., is the neighborhood. We’d take the dogs on (seven-hour) walks around it, and there are so many really cute houses.

IMG_9225.JPGNext thing you know, I was pointing out house features I liked, and admiring flowers, and hey, maybe Ned’s not so bad.

“Sure, I am.”

And that is when my purse broke.

The strap broke clean off. I just BOUGHT that purse, or rather Moneybags Ned bought me that purse, a few months ago.

“I’ll hold it for you,” said Ned, but as much as I wanted to take the contents of my bag and shove them clean up his ASS, I did not make him hold my purse.

“What do you mean, I’m the cause of all your consternation?”

Eventually, we got there, me holding my bag like it was a loaf of bread. Like I was one of the Wise Men bringing a pink bolted leather purse to the Baby Jesus. “This purse is so you, Jee.”

IMG_9229.JPGHere is their place, and I know, right? Careful readers will recall this is where I spent New Year’s Eve, and drove past Ned’s with my hand over my eye like a blinder so I wouldn’t look at his house. Almost fmr.

As soon as I got inside, I asked The Other Copy Editor if there was a place I could store my purse, and I’m certain she was delighted to have a full day at her job 35 miles away, commute home, rush over to her B&B to entertain scads of people, then have to deal with my broken purse.

Nevertheless, I persisted, and she hid it deep inside the bar, where I wanted to be, but instead I got a sparkling rosé and showed Ned around the place. I knew he’d love it, and he did, and we were sitting up in one of the rooms when we decided to definitely get married and divorced there, an idea we shared with another guest who roared over it.

He doesn’t know us.

Also, since my purse was tucked away with the Pinot, I did not have my camera, so I asked Ned to take photos, and he took pictures like this:

unnamed.jpgThe WHOLE PLACE, every NUANCE of it, is absolutely no-stone-unturned lovely, and Ned captures the driveway. Anyway, if you want to see their place, or come to town for one of the Stalk June Weekend packages we’re putting together, here is a link to their place.

I had my one glass of wine and was drunk as a lord, which was fabulous, and then I waited impatiently while Ned had a second beer, and there we were, the sun setting over that old house with its 200-year-old trees, the cicadas in the distance, and I said, “I cannot wait to be home in my pajamas.”

Ned doesn’t get people like me. Ned is an introverted extrovert, meaning he never speaks when he’s out, but he loves being out, whereas I am an extroverted introvert, meaning I meet people all the time, talk to everyone, and then I want to go home and recover.

So finally we WALKED back to his house, me in my strappy sandals, and I said goodnight to Ned and drove home,

to the biggest bug ever invented on my wall. Seriously, I think my hater flew it in from Peru or something. Mother of GOD, it was enormous.

IMG_9231.JPG“Ned? You need to come over here.” It’s FOUR MINUTES. Like it’d kill him.

“June, you need to be independent,” said Ned, “I’ll take you through how to do it. Get a broom…” and that is when I slaughtered him, because I AM independent UNLESS IT’S A BUG SITCH.

Actual unretouched picture of me nervously watching that bug. Independent. Ned can suck it.

Here’s Ned, taking care of the bug:

IMG_9284.JPGIMG_9285.JPGIMG_9286.JPGIMG_9290.JPGIMG_9291.JPGBye, Ned. I think he took more time driving over here than he did actually killing the bug. IT WAS ENORMOUS.

Finally, my ludicrous day was over and I got to go to bed.


Being able to stretch your legs is so overrated.

IMG_9298.JPGAnd that was my ludicrous day.

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At one point, I was sort of hot, in a "she's 27 and probably a 7" kind of a way. Now I'm old and have to develop a charming personality. Guess how that's going.

44 thoughts on “When a broken purse is the least of your woes”

  1. My husband is an extroverted introvert too. The life of the party and all the while just wanting to go home and get in bed. I’m just an introverted introvert, making me just a delight at parties. The B&B is lovely. Makes me hate living in suburbia. I can kill most bugs, but not roaches or water bugs. Ned’s a good lad for taking care of that for you.


  2. THAT HOUSE! I’m in love. oh I need to make a trip to wherever it is you reside and stay at that B&B.

    almost fmr. dying!


    1. I did that once. And the bastard CRAWLED AROUND MY DYSON (you know that canister is clear and you can see stuff inside *shudder*) and somehow managed to WORK ITS WAY OUT. My cats alerted me to the escape = now I make sure they are Dead-dead before vacuuming them up. Ugh, now I’m all itchy thinking about it.


  3. AA, I’ve had those moth things get into my pantry as well. I ended up throwing every thing out and using glass Mason jars for storage.

    I have a little lizard at my den door, last time I saw him it was a bluish color. Do you know those things will look right at you?


  4. We don’t have too many weird bugs in Iowa but the black wolf spiders (I think that’s what they’re called) can be disgusting some years.

    Moths seem harmless but if they get in your pantry, you are screwed. It happened to me. It’s absolutely disgusting, I was so pissed. It started with one moth that I saw fly out of my pantry one day and I was like what the eff but then thought eh, just a moth, no big deal. It was only a month later that I discovered the disgustingness of it all. Here’s an article about moths in pantry. https://www.100daysofrealfood.com/moths-invaded-our-pantrybugs-like-real-food-too/


    1. I hate moths more than anything. They always want to dive-bomb me and fly around so aimlessly. One got stuck in my hair a while back, and it was horrid. I could feel it crawling on my scalp trying to escape. I tried pulling it out with my fingers (eww!) but ended up having to take a shower and wash it out of my hair. It still grosses me out to think about it.


    2. I had a pantry moth infestation and I ended up throwing out everything in there, scrubbing the shelves both tops and bottoms, brackets, walls, etc. The worst part of the infestation was opening up the door and seeing the larvae squirming around. I just about lost it right there.


    3. Those black wolf spiders will kill and eat the poisonous spiders, of which I had a large infestation once upon a time. I was totally grossed out by the wolf spider but now will cuddle it and braid its hair as long as it does its job.


  5. “Being able to stretch your legs is so overrated.” Well, isn’t that the truth!

    The bugs, spiders, worms and even lizards don’t bother me, but don’t even think about me dealing with a snake. I have a writing spider right at my back door that has a web made from the house to one of my flowers and I was watering away last evening and the water was getting on the spider and he/she wasn’t happy, so I just left him. I have to make sure that spider doesn’t write MY name out there. When I was a kid we all said if a spider writes your name you die.


  6. But Jooon, what about that spider whose web was strung across your porch so I had to go out the back door, because it was
    wiggling its legs
    I can’t go on—
    You seemed so calm. Were you just pretending?

    You look lovely in the party pictures.


  7. I still leave bugs under mugs with post it taped to the top so my husband knows what is lurking underneath…if I can get close enough to mug the bug.
    Lovely post, June.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. You walked 3 blocks & only had 1 glass of wine? I don’t understand.

    Walking is overrated, wine is underrated. Still love you’re portrait/photo essays.


  9. I was just wondering…is the marriage and divorce on the same day? Maybe you could manage to get a nice sexy honeymoon in between the two.
    PS Absolutely love that house!!


  10. Like a loaf of bread!
    And, that house!
    Also, that bug’s homeboy was in my kitchen two nights ago. I drowned it in Raid and left it for HH to pick up in the morning. Only he didn’t see it and so that sucker sat there all day until he got home and then screeched at me about why didn’t I pick it up. No. What if it was just playing dead?

    Liked by 1 person

  11. My Stalking June Weekend will commence on August 12th, when I bring my son back to UNCG


  12. Lovely post, June! And pictures!! I was determined to get here early today, and thank God I did, because now Ned has become a pain in MY ass. WALK. Pffft. It’s completely his fault your purse broke. And then? “I’ll walk you through it?” WALK THROUGH THIS, NED. It’s a BUG, LARGE. He redeemed himself by showing up and terminating said bug, but only slightly, because recovery from Walk With Cute Sandals Resulting in Broken Purse will require more than Bug Termination.


    1. One day, I will tell Ned there is a bug on my wall, and when he gets there, it’ll be you and Fay hanging creepily fron near the ceiling just to freak him out.

      Liked by 2 people

  13. how cozy to have all the pets surrounding you. i mean, squished, yes. your day was redick. when’s the wedding? and the divorce? i need to put it on my calendar. the perpetual one.


  14. Oooh, is that a palmetto bug (AKA, giant fucking cockroach)? I made the mistake of living in the south for several years. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting those enormous motherfuckers in our apartment on several occasions, all of which ended in screaming and hours of wide-eyed rocking back and forth in the fetal position after my boyfriend (fmr.) killed them. Later we moved to a place which was hilariously infested with centipedes. I have horror stories for days about bugs being all up in my shit and terrorizing me. Like, once I went to pick up what I thought was a hairball on the carpet, and it was not a hairball. Or when I had to pass under a giant red centipede on the wall to get to my crying baby, and the fucker FELL OFF THE WALL as I ran past and I thought it landed in my hair. Whenever anyone asks me now about living in Georgia, all I tell them about is the heat and the bugs. Well, and sometimes the fried chicken for breakfast, but mostly the heat and the bugs.

    I’m laughing so hard at the “Sure I am” caption, but you look lovely in that pic!


    1. Oh I have some good palmetto bug stories that I still have nightmares from. Once I left my house and slept somewhere else for the night because IT was in my bedroom. Some people actually thought that was odd. Another time I was at a table and it crawled up my LEG. One time one fell from the ceiling down the front of my mothers nightgown, I kid you not. Why am I still in FL?
      How far north do I have to go to be free of them?


      1. I would legit be dead if one crawled up my leg. NOPE NOPE NOPE. I thankfully never had to make contact with one of those demon bugs. I nearly had a nervous breakdown one night when the largest one I’d ever seen crawled out of my bedroom closet. We went to a hotel for the night, so yeah. I totally feel you. (And your poor mother! OMG, I would never recover.)

        I escaped to Michigan, and I plan to remain here.


      1. I almost died too. Probably the loudest I’ve ever screamed in my life, and it was like 6 AM in an apartment building.


    2. And THAT is why I live in Oregon. We have no giant creepy-crawlies. Plus, the only natural disaster we have to worry about is the giant earthquake which will inevitably hit here.


  15. Lovely post. I saw the strapless purse too. And Blu! And that yellow phone makes me smile every time. We have GIGANTIC palmetto bugs (flying roaches) here in FL and if you have the same things in NC, I am cancelling my plans to move there.
    I would be up for a stalking June weekend, you know, if I’m in the neighborhood. 700 miles away or so. That’s practically walking distance for Ned.


    1. We have the Palmetto bugs in SC, too! They live in Palm trees here – they hate light and come scurrying out of the innards of our neighbor’s tree anytime I turn on our back yard light for the dog. Ugh! I asked the exterminator to get VERY close on that side of the fence and maybe even spill a little extra of the anti bug juice. He nodded, knowingly.


  16. Your floorlamp glared at Ned disapprovingly, hands on hips, for his lack of sympathy and even amusement at the Bug Sitch.


  17. Oh! I thought that Ned was going to make you sleep with that bug crawling around! I shudder to think about that. Good job, Ned. Well done. I HATE killing bugs. But I will, when no other options are available. My favorite time I got out of it was when my son killed a centipede with his Nerf Gun. And to think I didn’t want to allow him to “play guns” at all. THEN what would I have done?

    Glad you took a break after your hectic day. You deserved it!

    Lovely post, lovely June!


  18. Oh my god I was seriously cackling when I got to the photos of Ned during BugSitch. His expression is priceless.


  19. Aw, you should have had a picture of him wielding a tennis racket to attack the bug with, like Woody Allen in Annie Hall!
    Oh, and it’s called CamelCase and I love it. Madly. Irrationally. I CamelCase everything now.


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