Yesterday felt like one of those days where you never get to stop running around both at lunch and after work. I hate days like that. My whole goal is to get to the sit-around part. That’s my finish line.
Among other annoying things, I was trying to find a lock for my water spout outside. The guy next door, the one who brought me all the paintings, didn’t have water for months, and I told him he could come fill his bucket with water from my spout when he needed to. I also gave him my bucket, and I’d just like to mention for the record that I couldn’t find a cute replacement bucket so I ordered one online and it’s very, very late. In fact, when you check your order status, it reads, “On its way, but very late.”
No good deed.
Also, I know I don’t need a CUTE bucket, but these are the benefits of living alone. No one to give me shit about needing an avocado-colored bucket (except for all 10 of you I just told this to).
My point is I was coming home after dark the other night, with my swinging singles lifestyle, and saw lights on in his place. Yesterday at lunch when I was running about doing 40-hundred things, I saw him.
“Did you get your power back on?” I’d been calling the water company about his WATER but not his power.
“Yep, we got it all back on,” he said. “Then yesterday I up and collapsed.”
Seems he lost consciousness; fell right onto the street. “I wasn’t even drunk,” he told me. Neighbors called the ambulance and hauled him off. Then he showed me all the places they gave him shots and IVs.
“What did they say was wrong?” I asked.
“Don’t know. I was there for three hours and never saw a doctor so I walked home.”
I believe he and I have differing opinions on self-care.
The point is, I swear I heard someone taking my water the other night. Maybe I’m hallucinating it, but I wanted a lock. If anyone had just ASKED to have some water I’d have said okay, but just blatantly taking it rankles.
Turns out Lowe’s will bait-and-switch you, tell you there’s a lock for faucets right in the store, but there is not.
You’ll scream over there after work, acutely aware that your heart-patient dog is home winding his pee watch, and bupkis.
No one took any water last night, though. I was poised dramatically with a flashlight to jump out at them like I was waiting for The Great Pumpkin, and zip. In a way it was disappointing.
Remember my old neighborhood where people had tea parties and teeth?
Thank you all for your stories yesterday. It wasn’t that comment-y of a day but I saw all you ghouls came back a lot to read comments. They were heartbreaking and in every single case I thought, Well, you should forgive yourself on that one. It’s so easy to do that for others.
Oh! And the other thing that happened yesterday is my friend in real life, Faithful Reader Enormous Member Steve, sent me a riveting article about a blogger from back in the day who eventually started sort of faking it and seeming happier than she was to keep her blog going.
I never got that big as a blogger. I mean, I got bigger than I ever aimed to be. I sent this to 18 people after my first post, and in my heyday I had 4,500 people come by regularly. I had zero ambitions of anyone reading this, ever, so I was just grateful to get that many. Sometimes my lack of ambition seems like a shame and sometimes I think, “I’ll bet I’m a lot less stressed out than most people.” Unless of course I’m waiting for my cute bucket that never arrives and trying to chastity belt my spout.
My assumption is I never got big because I’m not aspirational. I don’t have a house to die for (but apparently my water is quite desirable) and I’ve never seemed to have it all, so why would you stampede over? But the upside, I guess, is when things are in the poop shoot I get to say, Man, things are in the poop shoot.
What’s a poop shoot? Is that an anus? How many times do you find yourself asking that? Who’s with me?
TL;DR, glad I never had gaze out miserably against my exposed-brick wall and pretend everything was okay. But I get the pull of that. I do.
I leave you with the following important issue. I was fact-checking something at work and with my ADD that can be a problem. Because I found out there are modern cuckoo clocks and now I’m obsessed.
I need one, right? I’m cuckoo for current clocks. As soon as my sparkly bucket gets here, I’m getting a clock that cuckoos currently.
P.S. You don’t have to use a name or email address to comment! Look! I remembered to say it today!