Thursday, March 19, 2009
Can't See Without My Specs
I have spent an inordinate amount of time searching for my glasses. I can't seem to locate them.... maybe if I had my glasses on I could find them. Seriously, I am so frustrated, because I truly cannot see without them. I have on an old pair that I have to keep adjusting to see around some scratches on the lens. I finally took a band aid and taped them to my forehead to hold them in the best position to see. Thank goodness the store is closed. I already looked somewhat bizarre in my painting attire. It was a nice spring day, so I put on a pair of old nylon running pants, an old blue tee with various paint splatters on it and the light weight jacket that at one point in time actually matched the pants (pants accidentally got bleached). Add to this some blue socks and hot pink rubber sandals. Didn't bother to wash my hair or apply make-up. Had my day all planned. First I was going to spread the load of dirt over the low spot in my yard that always forms a bog when it rains. Then I was going to stain my wooden curtain rod and some cabinets, then while they dried finish cleaning and restocking the store. That was all supposed to be accomplished before love of my life went to work at 2:30. I was building the lasagna for lunch, so that I could give my man a decent meal before work, when a neighbor stopped by. I am always happy to have company, but why am I always a mess when someone drops by? She and I discussed my plans for the rest of the kitchen remodel and she had some ideas I hadn't thought of. It is always good to see through someone elses eyes. We talked while I prepared lunch and then decided on a whim to go see her new house. This threw all my plans off, as I was going to shower and change before Drew went to work. So I spent the entire day in this get-up. The shirt has some of the barn red paint from the fence right above my right breast and I toyed with the thought of burning a hole in it to look like I had been shot. I managed to get most of my morning's chores done as the day went on. I had just sat down to read my e-mail and have a cup of tea when I saw a rig pulling into the park. The store is still in disarray and I look like I'm destitute. I go in and greet the customers. Really nice folks from Minnesota. We chat while they fill out the registration and they leave to pull around to the site. I had asked Drew to check the restrooms for me a couple of days ago, I haven't had any campers on that side of the park since the dog-hater came through. I decide that maybe I should go take a look myself, since what I consider to be clean is somewhat different than what he thinks. There are no paper products in the ladies room and the toilet needs to be flushed and the trash emptied. This annoys me, but I grab all the necessary equipment and get to work. After I finish there I move on to the men's room; paper product in abundance in there, but looks like dried mud on the floor..... and in the sink... and on the wall by the sink. Looks like clay. I don't have time to dilly-dally around, since I have to man the store and answer the phone, too. So I start to scrub the sink and when I get what I think is clay or mud wet the odor rises up to meet my nose and I realize that I have re hydrated dried vomit. The bathrooms look fine, indeed! As I live and breathe I will be awake when he gets home tonight! I will be right here with these stupid scratched up glasses taped to my head so that I can see his expression while I blast him with my words! And woe be unto him if he dares to talk back! As I am dragging all the trash from the restrooms and the laundry room to the dumpster one of my seasonal folks pull in to visit with me. As bad as I know I look, now I am wondering if I inadvertently splashed some of the vomit on me. All I want is a hot shower and clean clothes! They finally leave and it is past time to close up. Now I am clean and ready to wage war on Drew. It would be so much more effective if I didn't have to wait (anger will fade) and I could find my glasses (he might laugh).