blooms

So, they are called houseplants for a reason.  They don't really crave a few free ranging days in the open air.  I found that out the hard way.  One totally and completely bit it, another just turned half brown and lost a few leaves.  These are the same plants I gave herpes a year or so ago.  The funeral plants from my grandmother's service.  I'm the worst.  The absolute worst.  She must be turning in her grave.  At least I still have the philodendron.  If I kill that I deserve to be put out to pasture.  The philodendron and some other sort of generic filler plant and the thing with dark green (now brownish) leaves that flowered for the first time in the 20 months that I've had these funeral plants.  Three down, three to go.  They were all part of an arrangement in a nice bowl, but they got so big I had to re-pot them.  Maybe they were lonely.  I tried to get at least two separate plants in each pot just in case plants have some sort of need to connect with one another.  I do believe they do.  Maybe my mistake was not mixing types.  Maybe they need variety and not to be with their own kind.  Civil rights for plants.  Integration not segregation.

I don't know a lot about living things.  I just make a lot of guesses based on my imagination.

One of the plants actually hated living in my house so much that it uprooted itself and threw itself to the ground three times.  I've never seen anything like it.  The first time I blamed the cat, even though there is no real way she could have gotten it.  But cats are like that.  You never know what they are capable of.  Then I blamed the wind, even though that's pretty implausible too because it was in the bathroom window and there is plenty of fresh air in there but no real wind gusts.  Then the third time I got the hint and I chopped it up in tiny pieces and used it to fertilize my rosemary bush.  Giving life after ending life.  It's like organ donation but different.

Maybe it just couldn't take the bathroom anymore.  I don't blame it.  Who wants to live next to a toilet?

My toothbrush.  That's who.

***

The basement is supposed to be finished this week.  The non-union guy is putting up the trim today and then he should be out of there.  Which is good.  He has been chain smoking in my house and I'm afraid to say anything because he is in my house all alone for six to eight hour stretches and if he is anything like me and hates being told what to do he will get spiteful and maybe smoke somewhere other than the basement.  Or take something.  Not that I would take anything from someone but I'd be all "you want me not to smoke in your basement?  How would you like it if I smoked in your room and blew the smoke in  your cats' faces?  That's not in your basement.  Bitch."

I have a problem with authority and acting out of spite and I assume other people do too.
It's probably not a healthy way to live.

***

Whenever I house sit or pet sit for people, I always leave a note or text or voicemail for them that says something like:

Hey!
Everything went really well and I can't believe we have like six of the same pairs of underwear!  So funny!

Or if someone is house sitting or pet sitting for me, sometimes I'll tell them where my underwear is.  

Hey!
The cat food is in the laundry room and don't bother locking the top lock because the bottom one works just fine unless you're more comfortable with both locked.  Also, my underwear is in the top drawer of the wider shorter dresser, all the way on the right hand side.  Thanks so much!

Sometimes the joke goes over well and sometimes it doesn't, but I always laugh.
Sometimes I laugh at me, sometimes I laugh with me.

***

Underwear is funny.

I bought one of those As Seen on TV! Genie bras at Rite Aid yesterday.
Let's break that down.
I purchased a ladies' undergarment.  That I saw on late night television.  At the drug store.
Who the hell am I?

I know people that love them, but most of those people have adorable teeny titties that I would give my left index finger for.  My titties are neither teeny nor adorable.  The number part of my bra size is on the low end of things and the letter part is actually either two very round letters or one big letter with lots of straight lines, depending on the brand.  That makes for an interesting looking contraption. 

So I didn't have faith in the Genie bra, but I knew that if all else fails, I could either bring it back to the store or send it to my mom who is lucky enough to be part of the illustrious itty bitty titty committee.  Genetics can be a bear.

It's not bad.  It looks stupid as hell on, but once you throw a shirt over it the girls actually look quite nice.  Dome-like and high.  That's all I can ask for.  But they do squish together.  I like to be lifted and separated.  So a strike for that.  We'll see how it holds up over time.

Never would I ever buy it off the television, because I think it comes to something like $100 for 6 sub-par bras but you can get them on sale at the pharmacy 2 for $15.

At the very least they will make for good sleeping.  I'm not the kind that can sleep without a bra.  It's weird.  Like inviting two ornery real-life oven-fresh Mr. Potato Heads into your shirt for the night.  Or a couple shaved toothless guinea pigs.

***

An invitation came in the mail yesterday.  Remember the Communion baby who used the Church to make me sick?  He's turning one.  And his parents are throwing a party at the same hall in two weeks from Saturday to celebrate.  The food choices are Filet Mignon or Chicken Fran qu'est-ce que c'est .  Chicken something.  Far better run run run run run run away.

"Oh, you don't eat meat?  No worries, there is a chicken option, you can just get that."

Chicken is seriously like the grossest meat in the whole wide world.  Except for fish.  That is even grosser.
Chicken is seriously like the second grossest meat in the whole wide world.

Rest assured I will not be drinking a drop at this child's first birthday party.
Once bitten twice shy.
Fool me once shame on you.  Fool me again shame on me.
And so on and so forth and other stuff.

***

This is the last week of school for Jake, so he is bringing all his stuff home little by little.  This was his journal entry on 3 February.  It might be my favorite thing in the whole wide world right now.  It's like the opposite of fish.