Tag Archives: work

Ahhhh Geez, Do I HAVE To?

I’ve been doing lots of deep thinking lately, and I’ve come to a conclusion, procrastinators are not lazy, they (we) are just tired of being responsible all the time.

Think about all the stuff you have to do in just one day.  For me, I have to get up before everyone else,  force a teenager out of bed way too early, get dressed, fix the teenager’s breakfast, drive her to school after asking her if she has all her stuff, drive home, wake up the younger one, make sure he dresses in clothing that is clean and not too big for him, fix his breakfast, lunch and make sure he has all his stuff, drive him to school, and then go to work myself if I have a sub job.  During the day, I do all the teacher-y stuff, then I have to go pick up the boy, then pick up the girl, come home, make sure they do homework, have a balanced dinner so they stay healthy, make sure everyone takes a shower and gets to bed at a decent time, again, so they stay healthy.  In between all that, I have to do bills, laundry, clean the house, run errands, and do stuff for my aging mother.  My husband travels a lot, so he is only available to help on a part-time basis.  I WILL give him credit for being a good husband and Dad though, and he really steps up when he is home.  Just the basics of living is exhausting.  I am exhausted just from writing about it, so this leads me to my problem with procrastination.

Some things, like going to school and work HAS to be done at a particular time and so cannot be procrastinated over.  OTHER things like house cleaning, laundry and exercising so I stay healthy, don’t have to be done on a schedule.  Those things can be fit in when it is convenient.  Problem is, I find that it is not exactly convenient for me to do that stuff.  Ever.  I have books to read and books to write.  I have friends I want to talk to and a husband I like to hang out with.  I like my kids and I like to spend time with them too.  I enjoy the computer and I like to watch a little tv.  I get tired of being responsible ALL THE TIME.  I am tired of being a good girl.  I don’t want to do anything particularly bad or illegal or anything, I just don’t feel like doing everything I am SUPPOSED to do, all the time.  So I procrastinate.

I sit on my behind and read when I should be doing laundry, so the laundry piles up and up and up and then I find myself spending three days getting it caught up.  I play games on Facebook, and look up to discover that I forgot the run the vacuum or start dinner.  I sit on my swing listening to the Dean Martin station on Pandora radio, and realize that it is time to go get the kids and I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer and I’m behind again.  I get watching Paranormal State on Netflix and delay going to the park for my walk and by the time I get motivated to go, it’s too hot or too late.  I get in a conversation with a friend on the phone and run out of time to sit and work on my book.  Again.

This doesn’t happen everyday obviously, because I am generally too busy being responsible mom to just do what I want, but it DOES happen.  I’ve decided to stop fighting it.  I am realizing that when I get distracted and procrastinate, it’s because I am tired and too filled up with everyday responsibilities, and procrastinating is my unconscious way of taking a break.  So PROCRASTINATORS UNITE!!  Sit on your butt and daydream, or take a drive, or read a book. or work on a craft project.  When you were a little kid, that was called “playing” and everyone wanted you to do it, because it’s good for you.  Who decided that grown-ups aren’t allowed to play?  I don’t agree with that person, so I am going to ignore them from now on.  Now where did I leave my book…

Have a great day and be kind to one another 🙂

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I Need An Ark, Or At Least Glass Block Windows

The falls.

I read an article a couple of weeks ago that said there are only two states in the US that are not under some level of drought conditions.  Alaska, and my lovely home, Ohio.  I have just two words to say.  No shit.

It rains here.  And rains and rains and rains.  A couple of years ago when WE were in a drought and everyone was acting like the world was coming to an end and we were all gonna starve to death because of the little dried up plants, I remember saying in my oh so knowing way, and I quote, “Don’t worry about it.  We’ll have a couple of dry years and then nature will make up for it.  If we’d just stop monkeying around with everything and let nature take its course, we’d see that the system has balance.  We’re short now, but over time, it will be made up.”  Let me go on record right here, that I am officially, mostly right.  We are getting back in buckets the rain we missed out on a few years ago.  We don’t get nice, steady English countryside rain around here anymore.  We get American style flash flood, Noah’s Ark downpours on at LEAST a weekly basis.

I like cloudy, cool, misty weather.  I even like rain and thunderstorms.  Makes me feel like I’m in a wonderfully creepy horror story somewhere and that at any moment, something exciting, like a cape wearing vampire or a mysterious old witch woman will show up at my door and spice things up a bit.  Turns out I’m kinda wrong about that.  No body cool or mysterious or exciting ever shows up at my door.  Unless you think the Duke Energy guys who are tearing up everyone’s yards right now are exciting.  No, the only excitement all this creepy weather gets me is a flooded basement.

Stupid, fruitless, pointless activity.

Our house was built in the 1970’s.  The people who lived here before us apparently really LIKED 70’s decor and did NOTHING to this house. We stripped wallpaper and ripped up dirty shag carpet and threw away deteriorating pleated drapery with abandon when we moved in.  They also apparently didn’t mind the crappy little slider windows in the basement.  They lock nicely etc, but when it gully washes, they can’t stand up to the pressure.  Last Tuesday night we had three storms in a row.  Bad ones.  It thundered, the lightening was bright and frequent and it rained.  It rained so hard in fact that the drains in my window wells, especially the one in back, could not keep up with the water.  So the window well filled up to within two inches of the top of the window, then just as you thought  it was going to overflow into the yard, the crappy old slider window blew out.  Or in, however you want to look at it.  It popped out of the frame and Niagara Falls entered my basement.   Then it stopped raining, we got the water swept into the drain, it started to dry out a little and about an hour later it did it again.  Then in the middle of the night, it did it again.

Doesn’t “working” look like fun???

It’s not as much of a tragedy as it could have been.  The previous lackadaisical owners obviously didn’t finish the basement, and we put most everything in plastic tubs, so that’s cool. But there is something about seeing water flowing into your house that makes you want to catch it in buckets and empty said buckets down the utility sink.  I don’t know WHY you want to do this fruitless thing, but you do.  So, we caught a lot of it in buckets the second time it stormed, and it didn’t get as deep as the first time.  I thought the strenuous nature of the activity was going to give me a heart attack, but alas it did not.  My young son has since been praying for more rain, because he likes to “work.”  That’ll wear off pretty soon I’m thinking.  Personally?  I do NOT like to “work” so when it dries out, I’m calling the glass block window guys.  I want those suckers cemented into the walls of my basement toute de suite.  Let no one say that my husband and I will live here for thirty years and do nothing to this house.  Just because it’s taken us ten years to put the stupid things in means nothing…

Have a great day and be kind 🙂

I Married The Easter Bunny Part V

So after months of feeling like crap, I decided the time to move on was here at last.  I also realized that I needed some extra money.  Spring was beginning and this college girl needed new clothes, so I went to Sherry, the mall manager and asked her if I could work at the Easter Bunny booth during the season.  She said sure and that is when, oddly enough, the rest of my life began.

I worked the picture booth taking the pictures several times and it was just fine.  I was the bunny once and it sucked.  It was hot and smelly inside that stupid paper mache head.  It was not conducive to getting drinks of water or scratching your nose.  It was also confusing.  Does the bunny talk?  Does the bunny just pat the little ones on the head and send them away?  The bunny doesn’t have fingers, so the bunny helper gave the little kids a lollipop and coloring book which took off some of the pressure.  Also, it seemed the stupid, stinky head harbored germs.  I did my stint as the bunny and came down with a horrific, snotty, sneazy cold.  I didn’t want to be the bunny on my next shift like I was scheduled to be.  I wouldn’t be able to breathe or wipe my nose or get drinks.  I knew there was a teenage boy working the booth with me, so I called him at home and asked him if he would don the stupid suit for me the next day.  Of course he said yes.  Initial contact had been made.

The next day, I went to work in a shortish blue and white striped dress, a red belt that was one of those super cool Limited slouch belts and red heels.  Popped collar and carefully curled hair accompanied the outfit.  I was 80’s hot and I felt great, in spite of the snot.  I walked into the mall office to get my bunny stuff and my savior was sitting there with his elbows on his knees staring at the floor.  His first glimpse of me was those red, red shoes.  In retrospect, it was like a silly scene from a movie.  He looked at the shoes and scanned up to my face, swallowed really hard, regained his 18-year-old composure in the face of my 20-year-old sophistication, cleared his throat and popped out a manly “HI!”  I knew exactly who he was and that he was there to save my butt, but of course I had to act like I was not sure who he was.  “Oh, are you Mark?”  When he responded in the affirmative, I helped him get in the stupid suit, picked up the cash box, grabbed our elderly mall-cop escort and headed out into center court for our shift.

It was a really slow night, so I stood over by the bunny and talked to him.  It was really nice.  He was a nice person.  He sympathized with my cold and told me that he would do bunny duty for the remainder of the season whenever we worked together.  I was appreciative, he was nice.  When we got our break, I stopped at the popcorn store on the way back to the office and bought us a couple of cokes while our elderly escort took him on back.  We had a half hour break because of the heat of the suit, and we sat in the empty mall office the entire time talking.  We talked about my school, his school, our friends, spring, the mall, Easter, the bunny suit, Kings Island, cars, food, the lake, our families, music and on and on.  Every time we worked together, we did the same thing.  We’d talk.  About everything.  We’d get bored at the booth because weeknights were slow, so I’d grab the basket of suckers, take my bunny friend by the arm and we’d walk around the mall looking for little kids.  We became friends.  Really good friends.

Finally toward the end of Easter Bunny season, we decided to go out and hang out after work that weekend.  We were buddies and we enjoyed each other’s company.  I was not interested in him in a boyfriend kind of way at all.  I was done with that remember?  He was cute.  Very, very blonde and he had nice legs, but I really didn’t care.  I also couldn’t imagine actually going out with a boy two years younger than me.  I had just never thought of such a thing.  So with that knowledge firmly stuck in my brain, we got off work Saturday night, left my car at the mall, got in his car and proceeded to cruise around for hours.  Talking.  We decided we didn’t want to actually go anywhere so we just drove.  It was a pattern what is still repeating itself to this day.  Drive and talk.  Stop for a snack and a potty break, drive and talk some more.  By the time he took me back to the mall for my car, it was obvious that our hanging out had evolved into a date.  We decided to do it again.

We went out every chance we had.  We did all the usual stuff, movies, hanging out with friends, eating out etc., but the thing we enjoyed more than anything else was either driving around alone, or sitting by the lake or the river someplace with a picnic and talking.  We talked more than I had ever talked to anyone else in my life.  We really got to know one another and like one another as human beings.  After about a month of this, he invited me to his prom.  I did not hesitate for even one second.  I had been out of high school for two years and my undying wish was to go to another dance.  So I got a beautiful white, full length halter dress, told none of my friends and went to prom.  We had a blast.

After prom, he graduated and we proceeded to spend the entire summer going to Kings Island Amusement Park.  He had worked there for several summers and I had been hanging out there for years.  We had our season passes and we wore them out.  Part-time work doesn’t provide lots of cash for dating, so KI was a great way to actually go somewhere and have fun.  We’d split sodas and snacks and stay there all day til it closed.  Then we’d drive back roads home and then sit on the porch swing at my house and talk.  We’d been talking all day and we could still talk half the night on that swing.  Sometime in June, he told me he was going into the Air Force in August.  THAT sucked.  I had previous experience with boys going in the service and it was awful and I didn’t want to go through it again.  For some reason though, I decided to put up with it.  I didn’t want to lose this boy who it seemed was the perfect person for me.  We were attracted to each other of course, but our emotional and mental connection was unparalleled.  We suited each other in every way but especially in the ways that count.  We were friends.  We were each in love with our best friend.  So we continued to spend each and every available moment together and at the end of August he left.  I went from being happy again to being sad again, but in a completely different way.