Sunday. Why is this always such a melancholy day for me? Must be because I know that tomorrow it's back to the grindstone. And while I enjoy my job and am quite thankful for it - there's always a little part of me that harbors dread toward Monday.
Yesterday was a big day for the little bear, she rode a Harley AND a horse. She had better luck on the Harley than the horse, since the damned horse bucked her off. Thank GOD I had turned my back and missed the whole ordeal. I've been playing the "what if" game in my mind ever since the incident. I don't know why I insist on making myself absolutely nuts by running through various scenarios that COULD HAVE happened but didn't. This relentless fear of death and injury is exactly why I just sit my ass in a chair and drink. At least my death will be slow and expected that way.
The prodigal son got an invitation to a community college to do an on-site visit from the baseball coach. The coach has been watching him the last two weeks and seems interested. I'm thrilled beyond belief, but admit I cried all the way to Walmart at the thought of him being 3.5 hours from home. Who will grate on my last fucking nerve? Who will eat all of my food? Drink all of the bottled water? Leave 2 grains of cereal in the box in the pantry and a teaspoon of milk in the jug? I will be undeniably lonely. How often should I call? Text? Daily? Hourly? We're hoping to get down there this Thursday - I'm scared. I bet he is too, but we'll at least have 7 hours of windshield time to talk it through.
Update on the corn (because I know y'all are curious) - the bone on the adjacent toe is poking through as a result of all the skin being eaten off by the corn acid. Now it's sore. But the corn festers on - I made a note to look up what the hell a corn even is and also how to prevent this in the future. Also I emailed the corn acid people and told them how fucked up their concoction is because it's left me lame. I may file a class action suit against them if I remember and also if I find the time.
Today we're burning a big ol' pile of sticks - YAY! I think the husband is hung over and so this is his idea of looking busy - standing in front of a fire, throwin' shit in and "workin the fire" as he puts it. He really can find more ways to avoid housework than anyone I have ever met. We're also going to fry up a shit ton of catfish - assuming I can find the power cord to the fryer. Otherwise, I guess we'll just watch it rot away in the fridge then throw it away.
I really don't have anything interesting or fascinating or funny to say - just checkin' in and lettin' y'all know I'm still alive over here - I wonder if I'm still grounded from whiskey? I better go check, cuz I'm thinking that a good shot would ease my nerves and also make the task of cleaning just a tad more fun!
UPDATE: I read up on this corn matter - turns out doctors recommend NOT using that shit from Hellmart because it eats off your skin. Why the fuck do they even sell it then? This would have been good damned information to have previously.
UPDATE #2: I am evidently NOT grounded from whiskey because I see that someone has brought me a new half-gallon bottle and has it already chilling in the fridge. I think if I was grounded from it, there wouldn't be any in the house. ROCK ON!!!
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