From the basement files...

I’m not good at “keeping house”. This realization more often than not leaves me feeling completely inadequate as both a wife and partner. I just can’t seem to make myself tackle things like dishes or dusting because they are never ending. I’ve gotten better about staying on top of laundry but that is a steep uphill battle for me. I honestly believe there’s some key element missing from my DNA.

Today I tried to be better, for both myself and Husband. Expired food was chunked from cabinets. Appliances were somewhat cleaned. Countertops wiped down. Dishes were done and put away. Cabinets and drawers were cleaned out and reorganized. Eventually though I ran out of steam. I always run out of steam. I want to be proud of myself but I look around at all that still needs to be done and pride is a hard thing to find.

I keep thinking that if I minimize the amount of “stuff” then keeping it maintained will be easier. So I box/bag up piles of things to give away to charity and family members. I feel relieved to see them go and think to myself, “Ok this should be easier now…” but it never is. The “stuff” I gave away seems to be replaced by other “stuff” faster than I can become aware of it happening.

I’ve really been trying the last few months to clear out the “stuff” in our house. I’ve tried very hard to be cognizant of what we’re buying and how it will fit into the grand scheme of “stuff” already owned by us. It’s just not easy. I’m prone to deep emotional attachment to our “stuff” and Husband is prone to packrat-ness. I envy people who can pack their most valuable possessions into their car; I envy people who aren’t owned by their “stuff”.

I keep waiting for that epiphany. Waiting for that moment when things will just make sense. I’m not sure where I belong in this universe, what my purpose in this life is. I wish I could clear away all the unnecessary “stuff” from my proverbial basement and get to the heart of the matter. Where’s that catalyst when you need one?

Monopoly...

Dear Monopoly:
I hate you.
Please eradicate yourself from existence.
Thanks,
One angry wife

Goddammit.

(a blog in which Karen is pissed and drops the f-bomb... a lot)

Fuck you asshole dog who got into my yard and thought my goat looked like a good snack.
Fuck you piece of shit owner who doesn't show up until the second round of my screaming, "somebody help me, it's killing my goat."
Fuck you for not saying you're sorry.
Fuck you for not asking if my goat and I are ok.
Fuck you for trying to take the extension cord I had wrapped around your psychotic dog's neck so it wouldn't kill my goat.
Just fuck you.

I was home alone. I hear a noise in my backyard. It sounds like a baby screaming. I peek out the sliding glass door. I see some white pitbull in my back yard trying to kill my goat. I rip off my socks (I had no shoes on to begin with) and begin running full speed into my backyard. I pick up a branch, I break it over the dogs back and it won't let go. I kick the dog repeatedly while screaming at the top of my lungs. I finally grab the dog by the collar and yank the bastard off. I drag it back up the house, attempt to tie it up with an extension cord, call Husband sobbing telling him to get home because some half crazed pit bull is trying to kill the goat. Dog gets loose. I chase after it screaming for someone to help me. I get my hands on the dog again, practically strangling it with its collar. Owner shows up with 2 small children. Says his dog jumped from his truck. I throw the dog over the fence. I'm halfway back up the yard when the fucking dog gets back in the yard and the owner is just standing there yelling at him. I yank the dog off again, throw it over the fence again. 2 seconds later it's trying to get in my yard. Eventually I guess the guy gets the clue because I hear a truck roar off in the distance. By the time Husband got home I was in the bathtub sobbing.

Worst. Fucking. Day. Ever.

(p.s. my goat is ok for the time being. His ear is more or less ripped in half and he has some other injuries. We called a vet who does livestock and he said we could try to treat it with peroxide. Hopefully he's ok. I might try to get some antibiotics from work tomorrow. I don't know. Fingers crossed regardless)

I never thought it would happen...

My first sewing project.
Complete.
I might faint.

Busy, busy...

I feel like I've been run over.
People think I'm lazy.
I'm not.
I'm just not good at being busy.
I hate it actually.
I like quiet time.
I miss it.

• I've been selling old textbooks on Amazon. Which means I've been dealing with the post office. I wish there was a less headache-y/faster way to do it but... at least it'll ultimately (hopefully) be a little extra cash.
  
• I went to a volunteer orientation this morning for the TSPCA. Now the anxiety of actually volunteering has set in. I'm proud that I went. I tried really hard to talk myself out of it. At some point though I have to stop being so afraid to live my life. This is a step in the right direction, I hope.
  
• I started learning to sew today as well thanks to the wonderful (read: patient) Amy. If my new sewing machine wasn't possessed it would be going better. The bad thing is that when Husband took me to Hobby Lobby to buy some thread he needed I found myself wandering off to ogle all the pretty fabric and fantasize about what I could make with it. I'm so becoming my mother.
  
• My college roommate moved back to town. I've missed her terribly. Maybe now I'll be a little less of a hermit.
  
• I've been dealing with insurance screw ups. God bless doctors, they just aren't too smart.
  
• I've been trying to give my worthless crap away. Freecycle was too much of a headache (read: full of flaky ass people) so instead I waited for a charity to call. They really weren't much better.
  
• I finally gathered up all my old plastic bags and took them for recycling. It only took me 6 months.
  
• I've been trying to be better about actually reading books instead of just buying them. Easier said then done when you spend 4 hours sitting in a Barnes and Noble catching up with old friends.
  
• Somehow I stopped taking my vitamins. I don't remember deciding to stop taking them, I guess I just stopped making time to take them. So now my body is revolting. I'm not entirely sure I'll make it out of bed tomorrow. Ugh.
• I really need to finish a scarf I started as a birthday present for a friend. Her birthday was last month and I'm maybe a quarter of the way through.
  

I'm just tired.

It's Amazing... or not.

It never fails to amaze me how annoyed the following combination can make me: Husband+College Football. Dear god someone help me. I'm so tired of hearing him complain about how much he hates our tv and wants a big screen. Or ditching me in favor of watching the game at his parents house (which leads back to the whole argument of how inferior our tv is). Men.

It also never fails to amaze me how much I can hate my job. Seriously. Some days I feel like I work in a nut house on the schizophrenic floor. There is no winning.

Danger...

Aw the dangers of working in a cat clinic...

Shake Yo Booty!

(Above picture is old, pre-Husband old. Yes I'm singing and dancing to Genie In A Bottle by Christina Aguilera)

Are you done laughing yet? I'll pretend you are.

I'm trying to start a new tradition. It's called shake yo booty time. I took a cue from Kris Carr and decided that I too would start dancing to at least 1 song a day. I realize that it's impossible to be mad/sad/depressed or angry when you are shaking your booty like a mad woman. For at least 5 minutes a day I'm free. I don't think about work, I don't worry about my future, I live in the moment. Draining all my pent up energy is just a bonus.

It also doesn't hurt that my chiropractor in no uncertain terms told me to get off my behind and get some exercise. Crunches? God no. Shake my booty to some music? Abso-freaking-lutley!