Just Another Day … what a crock of testicles!!
I am fast coming to believe that there is no such thing as ‘just another day’, although in the same now incredibly Listerine minty breath l am inclined to say ‘Oh typical just another day in the life of just another day in the atypicalness of just another one of my days!” Yes, l think that is more appropriate, sure – it is longer l can display it like this if it makes for easier reading, but l very much doubt it .. OTJADITLOJADITAOJAOOMD … however for even more simplicity why don’t we just roll with ‘What a Crock of Testicles!”
Suze turned 57 today, although l am still baffled as to how we can be carted around in the womb for 9 months and yet we are born at ground zero, we are 0 days old, and yet by the second day we are then technically 1 day old, but not 9 months and 1 day? Never made sense, l only raise that as an issue because if abortion is wrong because we are killing a child, how is it that we are still 0 days at birth? That is not a question open to controversial debate nor is it a stabbing shot at taking the pee, it’s not any of those things at all, it is something l feel quite strongly about, and in equal portions of WHY are we only 0 days old and not 9 months old already?
So if we were already 9 months old, then our first year of life would be something like 3 months after our actual birthday. There upon Suze would not just be 57 but actually 9 months into her 57th year already.
Birthdays, are in my world a clear example of just another day. When younger, my Mother was the only one who really truly celebrated both my Sister and l’s birthdays. Dad wasn’t really interested, and come the ones past 10 years of age, interested even less. Because children past ten years of age are too much trouble, hence why Dad tries to have as little as possible interaction with them past this age. I know according to my Sister [when we were talking] that Dad paid no mind to her two once they started to establish cognitive intelligence of their own.
However, as said birthdays are something l struggle with and always have done and soon as l started to comprehend the 9 months gap thing. But to many people, Birthdays are still seen as a big deal, and irrelevant to how many years are passing you by, some people still celebrate with vigour their coming of a new age. How about you, are birthdays a big deal to you as in yours?
Scrappy’s birthday is coming up in November, and l can tell you now, she is hardly excited about it, she like me is already cursing other things going on in her life and just another day is still just another day, she will be 15 in human years and 83 in K9 years, so l guess at 83, she is not that worried about yet another day passing her by, as she is not just getting older by one year, but a few more in K9 turns. Perhaps when she hits 83, she will start asking people to only refer to her human age rather than her K9 age so as she can feel younger.
We had to take her to the vets today because despite an inflatable life raft sitting around her head she still felt the need to scratch the itchy spot out of existence, and made it far worse than it needed to be – ever needed to be, it became infected and right ‘horrible to look at! So now she has to wear a baby sock on her scratching foot, plus the inflatable raft and now has steroid cream to go into the wound after it is bathed in warm water. So l should imagine a birthday next month is the least of her concerns!
Following the call to my Mother regarding my Father’s intentions of getting back with his ex wife of nearly thirty years and my Mother simply laughing about it all. Come Saturday morning l had a somewhat distraught and raging ‘Mum’ on the phone to her Son. Stipulating that her ex’s intentions were in his head and she wouldn’t want anything to do with that monstrous man in any of her remaining life! Furthermore how very dare l even suggest such a thing! Upon me simply stating it wasn’t myself that said it, l was just awarding the heads up and to be careful on any future visits l was rewarded with “Don’t you dare tell me what l can and cannot do young man!”
I was somewhat astounded at this statement and so ensued an argument of what she [Mother] was allowed to do as far as she was concerned and what l [Son] was allowed to discuss with her. When l declared that l had ‘had’ enough with my family now that l seemingly was at war with my Sister for unknown reasons, my Father because he resented the fact that Suze and l were not driving 5-6 hour round trips at the very least once a week to visit for thirty minutes and now my own Mother for telling her to watch out with regards the visiting of my Father and more so if he had some kind of obsessive desire in his head that he needed a more familiar lackey in his life she answered with “NO, you are to stay in the game for your inheritance! it’s yours!!”
“So you are saying that l now must play some kind of game? Is this like the game that you and my Sister are playing then, do you mean that game?” In the end, l simply stated that there were not many things l regretted in my life, but actually bothering to call her about his opinion, l vowed l would NEVER tell her another thing!
It’s all stress, rock and roll l feel and not a ‘game’ l care for very much!
A Matter of Perspective
Suze, Scrappy and l rent, sadly as of yet we do not own our own house, hopefully this will change somewhere in the future. We don’t need a lot of space, but we need space to call our own instead of paying a monthly rental fee to unscrupulous and unregulated UK landlords. Now according to your own perspective on things – we either have the very best landlord or the very worst landlord. She is the best in so far as she doesn’t come along for any inspections and in the two years we have rented not once has she performed an inspection, or she is the very worst because she doesn’t do any inspections. She is either the best because she doesn’t bother you, or the very worst because she doesn’t actually want to do anything for the high rent she charges. All she wants is the money, so if there are any repairs to be carried out, it’s a case of chasing her continually.
Suze and l have spent money on the household many a time just to improve the situation for the three of us and our landlord is always ever so thankful – well she would be, because she is not having to do it!
Last night we had horrendous winds and rains, and our shed roof is no longer there .. well technically that’s not that true. We have a large shed at the bottom of the garden, you may have seen it in the ‘Doin’ the Dirt series, if not the top picture shows the middle of it. It’s about 20 feet long by 8 feet wide. When we moved in, the shed roof was in a poor state, and so we asked our landlord would she be fixing it? The answer was it was done recently and so , no. However her ‘recently’ was in fact 8 years ago. So not wanting to fork out extra in addition to everything else we had to pay for when we first moved in. We opted for a simple cost effective repair which was humungous weather sheet battoned down at the sides and that worked a treat for these last two years .. except for last night’s storm which completely tore it off.
Suze came to me this afternoon, and said “You need to see this” and what l saw was a huge ball of tafetta string! It was huge, massive and we wondered where it had come from? Duh us, the shed roof, our huge sheet of weathersheet was open weave tafetta – and upon closer inspection, whilst the leaky shed roof is still there, the entire ground sheet is missing!!!
OOps! Oh well another expense, more stress!
Eye Stye Gone, But!
I was pleased to awaken this morning to discover my eye stye had disappeared but in the gloomies to once more discover the return of an old friend – Mr Bloody Abcess – who has not only returned to say hello, but appears he means me some serious harm this time by occupying a good portion of my left upper jaw. I feel sadly that perhaps the time has come to call in the heavies and actually visit a dentist [huge groan!!]. I am not too sure if l can perform the kind of dental surgery required to repair this without removing the top half of my head, and Suze says she is not willing to clean up the mess if l get it wrong!
So today l have been walking around with a golf ball stuck in my left cheek and it is somewhat bloody painful to say the least! There is never any winning l feel in any of my days, and so l therefore conclude that for me to say in the future that a day is just another day is a lost cause!
It’s just a crock of testicles!