Monthly Archives: October 2013

I feel like I should warn you…

Not really.  My Grandma feels like I should warn you.  I am just not that kind of person.

Here’s the deal.  I live waaaaay out in the woods.  My best friend, who’s been coming here since second grade, still gets lost.  My husband draws maps for people we like.

Anyway.  The road that goes by my house is marked at both ends with big signs that say things like, “TURN BACK” and “WE ARE HEAVILY ARMED AND SLIGHTLY INSANE.”  Or maybe they just say “Private Drive.”  Whatever.  So regardless of the implied threat and the lack of paved road, people are always cutting through my damn yard.

Recently, the county came out and, in a really impressive amount of time, built a whole new road about 10 feet away from the old one.  This was good, because presumably people would use the new road and I could stop worrying about getting outside in time to yell and throw things at trespassers.

The “problem” is that they cut my driveway off.  (This is not a problem for me.  As I may have mentioned before, Private Drive.  Now it’s super private – even I can’t drive on it.)

So, they cut my driveway off.  What used to be my driveway is now about a four foot drop off into an embankment which then turns into the new road.  Not a problem.  For me.  However, somehow the trespassers innocent people just driving along are MISSING the new road.  Just scootin’ right on by it.  To my driveway.  Which no longer exists.

My grandma wants me to put up signs.  I am thinking:

1. Possibly the road people should’ve thought of that?

2. I don’t need signs, because these idiots are only gonna have to go through here once before they figure it out, right?

3. If they ignored my “VICIOUS ZOMBIE DOGS WILL EAT YOUR FACE OFF” signs, they probably just can’t read.

I don’t know.  I’m still debating.  I could build a fence, but at the rate these fuckers are going they’d just drive right through it.  What do you think?  Is it my responsibility to protect illiterate and possibly drunk trespassers from themselves?  Do I need a sign?  And if so, what is a compelling message?  Maybe it should just be a picture.


If you need me, I’ll be in my shell.

I feel like this turtle today.  Except some slightly drunk people in canoes helped this guy out, and so far today I’m not seeing any drunk people.  Or canoes.  Dammit.  Where is karma when you need that bitch?


What? It still kind of seems like a good idea.

Conversation with my husband about glue traps:

*It might be helpful to know that the glue trap in question here is stuck facedown on my porch with a dead snake presumably still stuck on the other side.  Long story.  Suffice to say, I don’t like snakes in the house, and I make questionable decisions when under pressure.

Me:  It’s rained so much, we might be able to get that glue trap up.  But there’s still a snake under there, so…

Him:  That thing is never coming up.  I suggest we just paint over it.

Me:  Hm. (Not thrilled.)

Him:  We could just staple glue traps up, sticky side out, all over the outside of the house.  Paper the house in glue traps.

Me:  OH MY GOD! That would be good for spiders, snakes, ZOMBIES…..

Him:  (laughing)  That was a joke.

Me:   ….bees, Jehovah’s Witnesses….this is brilliant.

Him:  We’re not doing that.  You know that, right?

Me:  Hm.  (Not making any promises, mister.)

Later…..

Me:  I decided that you are right.  We shouldn’t cover the outside of the house with glue.

Him:  Uh, yeah, I thought we already decided that.

Me: (closing the cabinet door so he can see the glue trap taped to the door, and the bowl stuck on it, hanging in the air.)  No, we didn’t decide anything, but I’m a reasonable person.  I’ve thought about it, and it’s a bad idea.  (bowl hanging next to my face.)

Him:  Reasonable!?  It’s not “reasonable” when you only agree with yourself!

Me:  Hm.


It’s a disinfectant kind of day.

It’s not even noon and I’ve been covered in a small human’s urine twice already.

This is motherhood, people.  Think on it.

I’ve got to go clean up after my cat, who has apparently decided that her litter box may only be used one time before she has to go in the floor to teach me a lesson.

If Cleanliness is next to Godliness, then I am currently living in the Devil’s asshole.


I can give the bird left handed, so there.

Oh Chronic Pain, you evil, sneaking, rotten bitch, how I loathe you.  My dinner sits uneaten because I can’t use my right hand.  What fresh hell is this?

It’s not enough that my bones hate me and plague me with random deep agonies Every. Single. Day?

It’s not enough that my skin burns for unknown reasons and requires me to put ice packs on my feet to fall asleep on those nights that I don’t have to immerse the bitches in boiling water to make my skin stop crawling?

It’s not enough that I lose at least a week out of every month lying in a darkened room, hoping someone will just shoot me or that my head will finally spontaneously combust?

Chronic Pain, you miserable slut, is it too much to ask for you to just pick one part of my body to torment?

*Please note that I realize there are worse things I could be saddled with, I am sincerely grateful for all that I have, and none of this shit I’ve got is going to kill me.  So everybody just calm the fuck down.