Those of you who've been hanging around here for a while, know that I have a
hate-hate love-hate relationship with my front lawn. It's always been a challenge to keep it mowed, with working and my wonky joints. This year, with new meds and no job, I was psyched. I was going to hit it early in the spring and keep it up.
Unfortunately, my lawnmower had other plans.
I spent two days trying to get it started before I gave up and took it to the shop. They kept it for almost three weeks before calling to tell me it couldn't be fixed.
My grass is ridiculous. I have no lawn mower and I'm still not 100% sure when the hell I can expect my first unemployment payment. So I watch the lawn turn into a jungle, imagining wiggly, legless critters slithering just out of sight, waiting for me to walk across the yard.
I get anxiety watching the grass grow.
HOPEFULLY I can get a used Craigslist special sometime next week. Fingers crossed.
News from The Cubicle Asylum
Lulu sent me a brief and to the point text message yesterday. I've been replaced.
Are ya'll sitting down?
They hired Bubbles back.
I pretended like I didn't care, tried to tell myself it's not my problem, but dude, I thought about that shit all night long. To be fired and told you don't have the skills to perform your job, then to be replaced by that ding dong.. it's beyond insulting. To make matters worse, I've had to listen to snarky comments from her Bubbahubby and her brother every time I run in to them in town, and that was before she got my job.
It makes me never want to leave the house again.
The Latest on the Fire
The last I heard was that the Frog Pond Holler fire ended up covering over 6,000 acres, but we've had a crap ton of rain in the past week and I'm pretty sure it's out. Thank goodness. Now I can hang my laundry out without my clothes smelling like Smoky the Bear's been rolling around wearing them.
Around the House
I spend a lot of time looking out my kitchen window. The view is of the vacant lot across the road and there are always random critters running amok. A gopher lives in a hole just up the bank, I watch him scurrying around and munching the greenery. There's a black cat that hunts and a pair of mourning doves with a nest up in the branches. When it rains, a creek forms and creates a waterfall that feeds the swampy pond below.
It's my happy place.
Last night, I passed by the kitchen window, then doubled back and looked again. There was a friggen Airstream parked there with tie dye sheets hanging from the awning and a bicycle chained to the front.
What the hell? It's right up by the road, with traffic whizzing by and hikers looking all up in the door. The man that owns it appears to be my age or older and is fond of running around shirtless. He sits over there in his lawn chair, sipping a beer, a blinding glare reflecting off his round belly, and looking straight in my kitchen window.
I've had to start wearing pants around the house. I don't like it.
I don't know if he's living over there or vacationing or what. It's nuts. There's a campground in the city limits and another one 3 miles up the road. Why would you want to camp a few feet from the highway?
People are weird. And coming from me, that's pretty bad.
Ah well. I'll adjust, I suppose.
Anywho, I'd better go finish dinner. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon!