Posted tagged ‘dawdling’

“Varicose veins are the result of an improper selection of grandparents.”

February 2, 2016

Gobbler’s Knob was the place to be this morning when Punxsutawney Phil emerged and didn’t see his shadow. Start packing away those heavy coats, hats and mittens. Spring will be early this year.

Coffee is late for a lot of reasons: I slept late, mirror under the nose late, took my time with the papers and drank my usual two cups of coffee. My calendar is empty for the week so I figure I can dawdle the days away. I’m very good at dawdling.

I live alone with two cats and a dog. When I was a kid, I’d have been labeled the old lady who lives with cats. I’d be wearing house dresses and ratty sweaters, white socks and slippers bent down in the back, and I’d be driving a really old blue or gray sedan under the speed limit, always under the speed limit. The doors in my house would be locked and never opened even in the summer. I’d fix dinner, eat at the table and hand wash my dishes.

My grandmother would have been the poster child for old ladies. She just didn’t have cats, didn’t like any animals. Never in her life did she wear a pair of pants. Her tie shoes were always black. She carried a huge, square faux leather pocketbook, and when she visited, she always kept it right by her side as if we were a house of thieves. She never used kleenex, only handkerchiefs with lace edges. I never saw a dirty dish in her house or a clump of dust in a corner. She was a horrible cook, but we never ate there often. I always thought she didn’t like us all that much.

She lived in a senior housing apartment. My father was a good son who visited her on Saturdays. If I were at my parents for the weekend, he’d try to drag me with him. Once in a while, out of pity, I’d go. My grandmother talked and talked. Sometimes she’d tell us the same thing she had just mentioned a little bit earlier. I’d listen and smile as if I hadn’t heard the story before. My aunt once took her to dinner at a Japanese restaurant where the food is cut and cooked right in front of you. I heard that story at least five times. I smiled every time. I also gritted my teeth.

P.S. We have a new citizen!!

 

“Housework is work directly opposed to the possibility of human self-actualization.”

December 7, 2012

The morning has gotten away from me. That usually happens when I sleep-in as I did today. I came downstairs around 9:30 brewed my coffee, got the papers, took my time reading them then did the crosswords puzzles, the knowledge questions and the cryptogram. I definitely dawdled, and I think that’s what I’ll be doing today. It feels right somehow; however, I will do a wash and finally get to my Christmas cards. They’ve been on the table in front of me for a few days. I might even make a dump run, but I won’t get dressed. My flannel cozies, my sweatshirt and slippers will just have to do. Really, who is there to impress at the dump?

Yesterday my canned food cabinets got cleaned. Roseana, my cleaning lady, did them. I casually mentioned that if she ever gets the time, the cabinet could use a bit of culling. Roseana loves to organize so she was off and running. When she’d find an expired can, she’d announced it to Lee, her husband, and me. In the way back she hit the mother lode. One can had a 2008 expiration date and it was crowned the winner. A 2009 was the runner-up. Roseana then organized what was left, and I made a shopping list of what I need to replace, things like cornstarch, baking soda and unsweetened cocoa. Lee carried the heavy bags to his car as I would never have been able to hoist them into the containers at the dump. Roseana now has her eye on the cabinet with pots and pans and who knows what else. It will be like an archeological dig. My apple peeler corer is lost somewhere in that cabinet, and I’m hoping it will be unearthed.

The wreath on the gate has battery lights so I have to turn then off before I go to bed, and last night was so cold I could see my breath. It was 33˚.