Everyone seems to be enjoying this summer. That's cool.
I had two horrible days in a row Sunday and Monday. On Sunday, the fireworks didn't interest me at all, my hair sucked from blow-drying and late evening humidity, my family went out to dinner after the movie -- without even mentioning it to me, I had some totally unappealing Cheerios, and then I went to bed late. It sucked.
I had to work on Monday. My entire family was still asleep when I got up for work, which was depressing. I had to get up earlier than usual because she'd asked me to be there early. Then, just before I left, she called and said she was running late. So I sat around, killing time which I
so would have used for sleep, until she got home. She'd just received the keys from the outgoing tenants of her rental house, so she wanted to go in and check it out, and have her husband change the locks. I spent a few hours cleaning. The house was terrible. The people had left random dishes, bottled water in the fridge, a towel over the shower rod, and assorted furniture. I'm almost certain that stuff (not even the furniture) didn't come with the house, so why would the former tenants leave it in there when they returned the keys? We've only ever moved out of military housing, as long as I can remember. When you move out, you clean the house thoroughly and take
everything with you. You won't pass the housing inspection if you don't. I hold other people to my standards. I try not to be judgmental, but I wanted to agree when Janet called the former tenants "slobs".
So, I cleaned, quite depressed about the previous day. Out of nowhere, Janet just left. Her husband was outside changing the locks. She gave me a few more jobs to do, then left. I sliced my thumb while I was cleaning the crumb catcher from the left-behind toaster. It must have slid against the mechanical parts in the top slots. Luckily, the toilet paper they'd left helped me apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I wasn't done, so I thought, "Okay, I'll spray with that hand and scrub with the other." No good. I wound up dripping citrus-scented 409 into the open cut. It stung like hell. I seriously wanted to cry. I managed to keep going, though I'm almost certain I forgot to wipe off the oven cleaner. I was trying with little luck to wipe off the top of the refrigerator when Brian (Janet's husband) showed up. When Janet left, I'd assumed she wanted me to go back to the house when I'd finished. Brian thought otherwise. I finished up, and because there was no room whatsoever in the truck, he gave me a ride back to their house on his tailgate. That part wasn't too bad, just more dangerous than I'd usually risk. When we got back to the house, she was gone. I picked up my bags and got another tailgate ride home, where I crashed, completely bummed.
I felt better later, though. Greg offered me a ride to St. Charles mall with him and David. Mindy's still with Granddaddy, and I thought it might cheer me up to shop, so I went. We ate, then the boys did their shopping first. I felt so out of place in GameStop and FuncoLand. I finally got into Old Navy, to check out the latest stuff and return a top I bought a few weeks ago. They got bored following me around (!!!), so I kept telling them to back off. They ditched me for the massage chairs outside. Honestly. That hurt. I do my best to seem interested in not one, but
two video game stores, and they can't hold on while I look for clothes? They showed up after I'd gone to the dressing room, so we had a very public conversation for a while. Greg got angry again and stormed out. We found him in Reeds Jewelers, looking at engagement rings. We made up. And he took me to Wal-Mart. I got
Never Been Kissed because it was cheap ($9.44), Greg hasn't seen it (!), and I had a giftcard (yay!). Overall, getting out did me good. I got Arby's (I love their chicken, bacon, and swiss sandwich, with no honey mustard, because eww), and I didn't have time to wallow in my bad days. I felt much better.
Yesterday, work was fine. Janet's got me reading this lesson she has to learn on annuities. Some complex financial thing. It's boring, but I can handle it. I came across some of her daughter's old Oxon Hill yearbooks while cleaning yet another closet. I think she (Janet's daughter) may have known my Uncle John. He graduated in 1992, along with my World History teacher, Mr. Capati. She was a freshman that year. It's that whole "six degrees of separation" concept. It was the same thing today, going through the things from the closet and reading about annuities while she watched her stocks.
I have nothing constructive left to say. That's unusual. Hmm.
