I'll wait while you grab some liquid refreshment and get comfy.....
Ready?
Good. Let's begin...
First, I have to state the obvious. It's hotter than a snot ball on Satan's hankie here in the holler. It would blister the hide off a lizard out there. Needless to say, I've been spending most of my time inside, sprawled out in front of the air conditioner. I'm a hot mama. I don't do heat.
I feel sorta sorry for Ma, not much air gets back to her bedroom. If you'll remember, last year I bought an ac unit to stick in her window, but it sat in the living room for the entire spring and summer, being used as a makeshift end table, while she repeatedly told me that she didn't WANT an air conditioner and refusing to let me install it. I finally got sick of playing the "let's jerk Mahala around" game and took the damned thing back to the store. Now, it's pushing 100° and she's all like, "What did you do with that air conditioner?"
She's perfectly welcome to stay in the cooler part of the house, there are new recliners for her to stretch out on, yet she chooses to lay on her bed in her bloomers, telling everyone who calls how hot she is and oh... poor pitiful her.
Sorry if I sound cruel. Judge me if you'd like. When she decides she'd like to be comfortable, she can send her precious baby sister Moses after an air conditioner and let her
Aunt Moses and the whole fam damly had a cookout down at Moe Ray's picnic area on Tuesday. They were a little put out that I didn't attend, seeing how I've got one of those "job" thingies they keep hearing about, employment being a foreign concept to most of the people in my family. Oh they all have income, one cousin who used to be on disability because she was too big to walk, now gets a check because of her gastric bypass surgery. Uncle Mullet, the one who shows up at your house within an hour after he hears you've been to the doc for anything pain related so he can score some drugs, gets a check every month from the railroad because of a back injury, yet he works part time at a gym, under the table. Then of course Aunt Moses mows and sits with my Uncle G, for which she is paid by his youngest son back in Norfolk. My trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye doesn't need a job, she's got that husband she skanked up on the internet, but he doesn't have a job either. The last gainful thing he did that I got wind of was "borrow" his mom's car before taking it over to Scary Hillbilly Town and selling it.
I feel kinda foolish showing up here at The Asylum every day.
Oh that reminds me...
The other day, my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin came over
"She did," I replied.
The child looked me in the eye and smiled before informing me, "Bubbles said you were mean."
"Oh? Well, it's no wonder. It was like working with a five year old." I wish I hadn't said anything at all, but it kinda pissed me off. I mean, what kind of childish bullcrap is this? Singling out a child she knows spent the first 5 years of her life in my house and using her to send her little messages.
She's brave in front of a kid, but she hides in the Jeep and makes her Bubbahubby do the shopping if she sees me in the dolla store.
I wonder how she'd like it if I stopped Precious the Elder in town and told her how her mama used to call our customers and tell them about her creepin' crotch rot.
Can you tell I'm a little irked?
Other tidbits from the past week or so:
- We harvested our first tomato the other day. It was tasty. I felt all accomplished and stuff.
- The new filter for the vacuum cleaner to replace the one Ayla ate arrived from Amazon yesterday. Dust bunnies beware.
- I've been spending some of my free time trying to teach myself Blender for use in making stuff in virtual worlds, because clearly I don't have enough crap to do. And honestly, who couldn't use a little more stress in their life?
- The dryer is squeaking. Like.. a lot. Like.. after ten minutes you want to rip your own eyeballs out of your head and smash them against the wall. I'm pretty sure it's the bearings. I know about bearings. I sell bearings. I've never seen the innards of a clothes dryer, but I'd bet it's just a motor, a belt, a shaft with two bearings and a drum. I'm debating whether or not I want to chance messing up my nails to see if I can fix it myself. Ya'll know I can't fix things. I try, but end up calling someone anyway.
- The book is still in progress, I write here and there when I can. If I had my way I'd quit my job and stay home and write all day long.
Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon!
Later Taters!
2 comments:
it's the bearing alright, and yes, you CAN fix it yourself though if yours is like ours you'll need another set of hands to get the job done.
My motto: I'll either fix the damn thing or tear it up completely. I say have at it!
First time I've smiled all day. Thanks:)
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