Category Archives: Humor

Wistful ladies and life after freedom of speech

I’ve been on a sabbatical of sorts from my site – for various reasons.  One of the least interesting being, my usual writing routine was disrupted due to no WIFI at the laundromat.

Some other reasons include:  Lack of interest, health issues, life changes, procrastinating purchasing batteries for my wireless keyboard …

Some writer I am.

Poe didn’t just lay around staring at his quill and just thinking about penning more cousin pining perversion or tooth obsession.  He got on with it.

Then again, he did have a metaphorical raven egging him on.

If I’m going to be truly honest though – (ironic considering what I’m trying to say) I can no longer not edit myself here.

Recent events I want to share with you involve others and I don’t have the license or lack of conscience to tell their story.

Even if I was cryptic they would know who they were – and I don’t want to hurt anybody.

I seriously considered taking Debauchery Soup down completely.

I’d rather not write at all than not write honestly.

But, there have been some past pieces that I’m quite proud of over the years.  In addition, pieces I know have helped others (I do read the private emails and comments I receive from the side bar) so, Soup remains.

I’ll tell you some good news though.

I conquered agoraphobia!

My anxiety has decreased significantly.

I’ve been not only leaving the house – but, ‘peopling’.

I’ve acquired a social life.  Yes, me.  OK, so it’s still heart pounding to begin with – but I find myself settling in no time.

I honestly can’t remember the last time the house was cleaned from top to bottom, I haven’t been cooking.  I’m enjoying life home alone because I’ve finally accepted that things don’t constantly NEED to be done – I can take time for myself even if there is a dish in the sink or dog hair on the carpet.

Which does now remind me of a story I can share.

Comfy?  Ready?  Here we go:

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I was in a clothing store early in the week perusing the racks of dresses when a petite older lady approached me.

“Did you ever find something that fit so perfectly and was so lovely that you just HAD to have it?”

(These encounters happen often for me – strangers coming up to me and chatting)

I saw the top she was holding up.  It was teal, flowing, layered and sparkly.

“I have.  That’s beautiful!”

“Oh,” she said, “It is – but, I don’t have anywhere to wear it.”

“Why not wear it at home and have a glass of wine?”

“I don’t drink.”  She answered.

“Ok, well, the holidays will be here before you know it!”

“Then it will be too cool to wear this.”

At this point, I’m invested in this woman getting the top for herself.  But she continued with,

“Besides, it’s a younger girl’s style.  I’m 80.”

“More the reason to get it then!  No time like the present!”

“I think it’s too dressy for church too …”

I’m torn at this point between smiling and exiting the conversation while internally yelling ‘don’t get the fucking top then!’  Or doing everything in my power to make sure she left the store with it – whether that meant I purchased it for her or took her hostage to the cashier and forced her to treat herself.

“Certainly they have functions though?”

“No, not my church.”

I was striking out – and long past looking for anything for myself.  I wanted this little lady to have something that she had loved on her – something that had made her feel beautiful and wistful.

She suddenly remembered she had a similar, less splashy top in her other gnarled hand.

“OH!  Well – I should probably try THIS one on.”

I smiled and we parted.

I left hoping that other top fit just as well – but also sad that she didn’t get the one she obviously adored.

She was being practical I know.  But sometimes we have to treat ourselves to something fanciful.

And that’s how I’m living life lately.

Doing things that make me happy and not questioning a thing.

My life right now IS that lady’s sparkly layered top.

Musings from the Laundromat: Flood edition

Happy Mother’s Day to all Mama’s, Single Dads, Grandparents and Fur Baby  Moms.

I’m beginning my day at the laundromat (obviously) and guess who is here?

Glaucoma Man!

I haven’t seen him in months.

Now let’s get down to the wonderful (there is no sarcasm font) week I have had.

_____________________________

Monday I woke to an extra sound in the house.

A hissing of sorts.  I quickly concluded that it probably wasn’t a rattle snake.  I mean, they’re not called ‘hissing snakes’ are they?

The more my senses woke up with me, the more I knew what the noise was.

I leaped out of bed and followed the sound.

Sure enough, my main bathroom was under at least an ankle depth of water.

I tried to turn off the water at the toilet, but calcium build up would not allow that.

So, outside I went to the main.

I returned inside and assessed the situation.

FUN FACT:  Rugs usually don’t reflect when photographed – unless they’re completely under water.

Completely full garbage can – sitting in the ankle deep water (that a lotion bottle lid floating on top FYI.)

Of course it also reached outside.

My only reprieve (again, REALLY need sarcasm font) is that the majority of the water had found it’s way into my air conditioner vent.  *sigh*

Funny thing about suddenly not having indoor plumbing or running water is:

a)  I immediately wanted to go to the bathroom and

b) Was suddenly very thirsty for a glass of water.  Never mind that I had juice in the fridge.

All of this at 6 a.m.  All of this on the morning of a day I REALLY needed to be at work.

BUT!  Life had other plans, as it usually does.

I called property management and my boss and spent the next hour fielding calls from various workmen and companies.

Ran to the store to buy bottled water so I could at least brush my teeth and give my freaked out pup fresh hydration.

Fast forward.

Eventually the cavalry arrived and I had six – SIX men in my house (none of whom were the plumber.)

A handy man, two restoration men, my maintenance property manager and an A/C guy.  Wait, that’s only five.  Gawd only knows who the sixth man was.

Machines began appearing, trucks revved outside, Butters was losing her mind.

The crowd started to dwindle and then the plumber showed.

He managed to slither in between the restoration equipment and fix the leak.

The aftermath …

Base boards gone …

Oh, there they are.

Containment area

Which, I later had some fun with.  That’s me doing the ‘human centipede’ poster reenactment. (Yes, I have a shirt on – it was a  flesh colored tank.)

And, now here’s a little video for you.

FYI: I did make it into work, after a quick shower.  It made for a long day.

The machines are STILL running – which renders my shampoo and conditioner HOT in the bottle – and taking a shower feels like mission impossible on the surface of the sun.

Everytime I enter the zipped area I have visions of toasters falling into bathtubs.  That may have something to do with the light headed feeling of the shower/sauna.

Tomorrow may be the day all equipment exits my home – in the mean time, poor Butters probably should have been on Prozac.

We’re almost there Butters, we’re almost there.

 

Musings from the Laundromat: Relaxing Flu Edition.

I knew I wanted to relax this weekend – didn’t realize how adamant my body was going to be about that happening.

I woke Friday to two lovely surprises.

1) A visibly swollen neck, sore throat, headache and fever

2) I’m not pregnant.  (Not that there was a possibility, but found that the least offensive way to put it for you.)

Went to work and really hung in there, if hanging in there means occasionally putting my head on my desk and mouth breathing.

Somehow got everything done and finally couldn’t ‘hang’ anymore.  I tapped out at 2, came home and hit my bed so hard there may be charges brought against me.

I can’t remember the last time I slept so much!

Well, intermittent sleep anyway.  Had anyone watched me Friday night they may have drawn the conclusion I was kicking heroin.

You know, that lovely ‘fever fidget’ mode?  Hot, cold, legs kicking – moaning.

The flu is no joke!

So I wake up Saturday feeling like I’d biked the Tour de France and realized I still had to adult.

I had no medicine, no more juice.

I called my mom (feeling pathetic) hoping she could shop for me.  I didn’t reach her and sat and debated.

Do I take my virus out into the world?  That would be selfish.  But, I needed provisions and my fairy godmother wasn’t flying in any windows with aid.

So, I went.

My eyes looked like Gilbert Godfried with a shellfish reaction.  My face pale, sans makeup – mouth lolling open like a zombie.

Safe to say no one hindered me during my excursion.

I grabbed meds, soup and lots of juice and headed back home.

Lots of movies watched me this weekend – but two I DID stay awake for were Bridget Jones’s Baby and A Street Cat Named Bob.  The latter was genius.

I don’t want to give anything away, but there is a scene tha mirrors something I described earlier.

Anyway, I highly recommend this movie – if you have Netflix, you can find it there.  It was a book first, based on these two:

So, now I’m at the laundromat.

And it would have been SO easy to not have come.

Especially when I arrived and there were people waiting outside and the door was not open.

But, my sheets and pillowcase needed washing – after two days of soaking up my germs.

And once I saw that the WIFI was actually working, I made myself stay and wait so that I could write to you.

I’ll be crawling back into bed after I make it up with these fresh linens and put my clean clothes away – and finding another movie to watch me.

And, I can say that I have successfully accomplished what I set out to do this weekend no?  Just – maybe next time, it can be by choice.

 

Musings from the Laundromat: Finger Lies and White Glove Cleaning edition

 

I peopled yesterday.

I SO peopled.

Made a return at a major store – found no replacement, went to another major store – this is after an uncomfortable drive to the first place.

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Woke up.

Bathroom.

Care for pets.

Pills.

Shower.

Thought of leaving brings on another need for bathroom.

The drive: “OMG, why are they going so fast?”  “Am I going too slow?” “I have to be in this lane.” “Are they mad at me?” “They’re not going to let me in if I don’t move now.”

Store.

Bathroom.

Get me out of here!

_________________

Last store – my heart was ready to come out of my chest.  I entered Safeway.

Wiped my cart with the sanitary thingy – reach into my purse for my pen (I always do a ‘tally’ as I go) and ‘POKE’ … And OUCH.

I pulled my hand out of my purse and … Blood.

A lot.

A trial size perfume spritzer had shattered and the ‘poke’ was a shard of glass.

I headed to customer service because A) I am NOT going home now without my provisions and B) I needed her to check my lottery scratcher tickets because I am blind as Clarice Starling in Buffalo Bill’s cellar these days.

So I’m standing there – dripping on not only the cart, but the floor, my clothes, anything in my midst.

Me: (placing, very calmly, scratcher tickets on the counter)  Um, do you have a band aid?

Her: Wow.  You’re bleeding pretty bad.

Me: Yeah.

Her: OK. (Scurries off for ‘things’)

Me: I’m so sorry.

Her: Don’t be sorry.  How did you do that?

Drip.  Drip.

Me: (Feeling woozy, trying not to bleed everywhere and becoming increasingly aware of how much I am) I, um, I  was by the dispenser, the thing ..

Her: The sanitizer?  You cut yourself on the wipe container?

Me: Yes.

LIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Liar!

LIE!

“Do you want to file a claim?”

No, no I didn’t lol. Because it wasn’t the dispenser’s fault.

She kindly patched me up and yes, I had missed a ‘winner’.  $10 in my pocket and a band aid on my finger and I was off.

But what WAS their fault?  The barricades in the aisles.  Stock people, I know you have to stock,  but, damn!  It’s hard enough for me to be in the store at it’s best time (which I still haven’t figured out) but when I’m doing a grocery version of a maze/obstacle course that’s ridiculous.

I was so DONE with being out, SO done with peopling and so mad at myself for allowing the sweet customer service lady to believe the sanitizer dispenser attacked me.

The rest of the day I spent cleaning and cooking.

It’s time for my annual home inspection – or as I like to think of it, ‘intrusive visit where photographs are taken of all my belongings’.

I clean all the time, but this visit calls for the white glove kind of clean.

You know, all the things you don’t do all the time.  (Or, maybe it’s just me?) Like, removing and washing the floor vents, cleaning the top of the  fridge, cleaning under sinks and tossing items not used even once since last inspection.

I got most everything done except my bedroom.

I just can’t get into gear to do it!

We all have that one room everything that doesn’t belong anywhere else ends up right?  Well, that’s my bedroom.

And it really sucks the ‘nest zen’ right out of my budoire.

I’ll get to it eventually.  I have a deadline after all.  That always motivates me.

But for today … I’m going to chill out a little.

Luckily, I am done with outside errands and there’s no more peopling in Sunday’s forecast.

 

Fish Grandma and Cryptic Message Unveiled.

Last sentence I said out loud: “I don’t know what I’m doing, I have a shitload of stuff!”

Metaphor for my life lol.

But, in actuality, I was carrying my iPad, my phone, my keyboard and my coffee into my bedroom.

Lately, things have been pretty amazing as far as ‘amazing’ can go when you’re alone, your favorite person is terminal and you’re hundreds of miles away from your guy.

In a moment of vanity, may we acknowledge how insanely odd the ‘pause’ button makes us look?  LOL!  OK, done with that.

SO! (Other than the fact I need to get a haircut …)

Obviously the call was from my guy.  It’s getting harder and harder being in a long distance relationship.  But, also, think it suits both of us, and that’s kind of scary.

Am I going to be 70 waiting for his call?  Just happy to have my own space and look forward to a call?  OR, can we one day come together?  I know as much as you do.

As for my son.

They’re moving again in mid-July.  The love of his life is continuing her education to get her Masters.  I’m proud of them both, but, won’t lie (like I ever here) I wish he would find HIS niche.  His ‘thing’.  I didn’t for the longest time, and let’s face it, he’s been in a relationship longer than I ever have lol!  So I’ll just shut up about that.

Speaking of kids and futures, I discovered today I may be a grandma …

See the blobs?

I think eggs.  I was cleaning out the fish I inherited and didn’t scrub those.

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OK, so, now a big ‘reveal’.  The other night I posted a cryptic message on my Facebook.  I HATE when people do that!  But, I did it.  I mentioned I was giggling on the porch and couldn’t mention why.

Well, I’ll tell you now.

First, let’s look at this weed that grew outside my office – I wanted to capture it before the gardeners pulled it.  So beautiful.

AND we segue into … “One man’s weed is another man’s flower”.

Those that follow me know that I am fighting not only agoraphobia, but severe anxiety/panic disorder and a heart condition.

I do ok.

But, I was given some medical marijuana from someone with a card.

I was dubious and scared.  I mean, today’s pot is NOT what I used to use.

Back in the day I remember laughing until my belly hurt under the stars camping, having ingested pot brownies.

I remember what pot USED to be.

I had a bad time with it a year or so ago.   Too strong for me.  I couldn’t even move my limbs.

Well, THIS has made a difference.

It’s been about a month now.

I went from having 4+ attacks per week to maybe one every two weeks.

Able to not only drive to a shop (no, not while ON it – stays in the system I think) but go IN and do my shopping.

Also, sleeping a whole lot better.

Unfortunately, this is the last of it.  But, seriously, marijuana needs to be legal medicinally everywhere!

Much better than the 3 toxic pills I take twice a day!!!

I, personally, can’t afford to get approved or afford a card.  But, having experimented, I can say that it helped BIG time!

You know, with my “Shitload of stuff”.  Lol.