I once had a vice principal at a middle school I worked at berate me for killing a yellow jacket. I had ruined that creature's karma, she told me. Oh well. A dead yellow jacket that had been buzzing around me when I'm allergic to them is better than a live one.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning, an hour later than I've been getting up lately because the grandbabies have been arriving around 5:30. So...I guess I managed to sleep in, eh? But when my eyes opened, they popped open and I was wide awake. No sense in going back to sleep. I got up and had breakfast, visited with Dear Hubby sporadically as he wandered back and forth between the bedroom, bathroom, and his den in the basement, getting ready for work. Then I got inspired, trying to think of something to cook for dinner tonite. I knew he was going to take a ride out to his archery club after getting off work around 1:00 this afternoon so I got the brilliant idea of making a meat loaf and then refrigerating it so I could feed him some meat loaf sandwiches, either before or after his little adventure, depending on how hungry he was when he got home from work. I got one prepared, popped it in the oven at 5:30...then went about doing some of those daily mundane things that need to be done...making the bed, laundry, taking Chloe dog for her potty walk. When I came in from walking Chloe, tho, an alarm was beeping! Not the smoke alarm, tho...something coming from the kitchen. My stove! I didn't even know it had an alarm on it, ha! But "F-2" was flashing on its digital read-out screen, whatever that meant. I got the stove second-hand from my brother about 7 or 8 years ago when he and his wife remodeled their kitchen and do you think I ever bothered to read the Owner's Manual? Of course not. I could hear my meat loaf, which had supposedly been baking at 375 degrees, sizzling away inside the oven. It'd been baking around half an hour. When I fetched it out of there, tho, it was completely done - perfectly too! - but the element was bright red and the temperature gauge was at its top limit. I unplugged the stove, thinking if I left it that way for a while I could plug it back in and maybe use the burners. But no...as soon as I plugged it back in, away the oven element went again. OK. I got the picture. Nothing to fool around with there. Time to go buy a new stove. The fourth appliance we've bought in the past year or so. The day I was supposed to rest and do nothing?? Well, at 9 am I was at my favorite appliance store, shopping for a range. And I need it today so of course I had to pay an extra $20 beyond the regular delivery price to get it.
Man. I've been feeling thin lately, something I rarely have ever felt in my life. I'm a large-framed woman of Swedish ancestry and I will never ever be a size 2. I'm lucky, at my thinnest, to fit in a size 10 or 12. I'm usually around a 14, mainly because I don't like to wear snug clothes or even 'fitted' clothes. I like sloppy, comfy Grandma clothes for my daily life, considering all the various liquids that get burped, spilled, and peed on me thru a normal day. But today, I broke my cardinal rule of not weighing myself at home, just leaving it to doctor visits. I've had eating issues in the past and I know what a crazy merry-go-round that can be, letting the scale rule my life. Since being weighed when my bladder infection first hit me 5 weeks ago, I've lost 8 pounds. No wonder my night shirt is now big enough for two of me to fit in now. I take my last two pills today. Hallelujah. I am still waiting to feel great.
So now, here I sit. Waiting for the delivery guys. I'm still not capable of moving or lifting heavy things just yet so I know I'm going to be mortified when they move the old range out of the way and all the dust bunnies and dried-up bits of spilled food that have rolled under it and fossilized are revealed. I'm sure we'll find some of Dylan's magnetized letters and numbers under there, too. You know what? Oh well.
I told Dear Hubby years ago that's what I want for an epitaph: Oh well.