Musings from the Laundromat: ‘Twas 3 nights before Christmas
This is my last musing from the laundromat before Christmas. I just peeked up from my table and over a washer to see if there were any decorations … I do see a fake poinsettia poked strategically in a fake potted plant – but other than that – nope.
Halloween they had a skeleton on the bathroom door – perhaps it is a paganmat – which would be fine by me, only I don’t see any solstice decorations either. No Yule altars on the folding tables.
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, this is the last musing before Christmas (tangents are your gift, you’re welcome.)
I’ve decided I have the best friends on the planet.
Friday my friend Ruth brought tears to my eyes and renewed my faith that if you do the right things, and are kind – you DO receive kindness in return. The point is though, you shouldn’t expect it.
Kindness is magic. Right Derek?
It occurs to me, I really need to look into what photos I can use from the internet – but I can think of worst things than Ricky Gervais asking me to remove something.
‘Madame, kindly (the magical kind) remove the photo of me and the dog.’ Or, ‘Madame, kindly (still the magical kind) remove your clothing.’ :-O Ricky!!!
Back to expecting things.
Anyone who knows me knows I don’t expect anything. Almost to the point of channeling Eeyore. Hope from time to time? Yes. But certainly don’t expect.
Yesterday I went shopping – it wasn’t as bonkers as I was expecting. (Oh my goodness! I DO expect things.)
I didn’t cross everything off of my list, but got to say ‘Merry Christmas’ a few times and had the experience of being outside with other humans, so it was overall pretty great.
That’s another facet to this season I was missing. I was telling my friend Betty … I haven’t BEEN anywhere! One of my favorite things about the holiday season is the cheer and good nature from strangers.
It’s hard to bump into a stranger and witness cheer or good nature when I’m either in an office, driving to and from the office, or in my house (Gawd, I would HOPE I didn’t ‘bump into’ a stranger whilst driving! Or in my house. Because we know, Butters is crap at protecting me.)
Betty gave me some pretty adorable little earrings. (She knows me – she knows I only do ‘little’.)
She also gave me a ceramic gingerbread house that warms oil that Nic has adopted. That child has inherited my love of scents it seems.
He keeps absconding with candles and air freshening devices into his room.
The entire house smells of peppermint this morning courtesy of the late night fragrance kid.
Speaking of fragrances – after my shopping experience, I checked the mail.
There was a small box for me from my friend Rachel.
An entire bag of samples!!! I was over the moon. 🙂 She read my December 15th post and was sweet enough to send me more ‘little scents’ to be excited about.
(Probably I should hide them from Nic. Although – he hasn’t shown any interest in my perfumes yet … just household fragrance devices.)
So this brings me to wonder, if I blog about something – will it be sent to me?
If so – here’s what else I love.
Kindness for you.
Health and happiness for you and yours.
Wishes to come true for you.
Love for you.
And serenity and a peaceful heart – for you.
I’ll take a naked mole rat colony please and Santa, I’ve been good, may I please have my lobster?
Not so silent morning – and an Angel
Sleeps ‘til Christmas = 6
Gifts Purchased = 0
Holiday Spirit = 5 out of 10 thanks to an angel
I awoke this morning and proceeded with my ritual of letting the dog out then making coffee and shuffling about until coffee was ready.
I went outside to check out the moon next to Jupiter – probably would have been amazing if I had a telescope – but was still pretty cool. I wanted to be sure to see it.
Grabbed coffee, gulped some down then into the shower. Back to my bedroom, started to get ready for work and …
BANG!
Something fell in the house, and it didn’t sound like anything familiar.
You know you get keyed into certain household noises … they have their own distinct familiar sounds.
Posters falling off a wall, the sound of an animal skidding across a table, those suction cup shower caddy’s that never stay cupped spilling all of it’s contents onto your shower floor. (Worst part of picking up a shower caddy from your tub by the way – spending time figuring out how to get the blade back on your razor and licking the damn suction cups.)
Anyway – this wasn’t an identifiable noise.
And it was quite loud. I was a tad alarmed.
I was in a towel – and while I’m not afraid to investigate noises or confront burglars or serial killers, I wasn’t doing it naked.
I threw my pajamas back on and opened the bedroom door.
I could see Butters staring towards the kitchen. There is a dividing curtain between the kitchen and Nic’s ‘wing’ of our shoebox. She was staring at it. And looking very uncomfortable.
Then a growl/woof from ‘Butters the brave’.
Seriously – is there anything more disturbing than your dog being disturbed and afraid of a noise whilst staring at something unseen? No. No there is not.
I forgot my knife and my pepper spray – but continued on. Pulled the curtain back and found the source of the thud.
Nic’s air rifle had fallen over in the laundry-room-that-does-no-laundry.
Gawd.
OK, so I probably didn’t need more coffee now that my heart was beating faster, but I got more anyway.
Finished getting ready and came into the living room to sit for a bit and catch some news.
It wasn’t until I was on the couch that I noticed something on our little fake Christmas tree.
My son went to his girlfriends house yesterday for a Christmas Party – I was invited but opted out as I’ve not been feeling well the past few days and certainly didn’t want to spread any Holiday Cheer of a viral kind.
Oh! Before they went, they made this at our house:
I commented on FB
“Damn teenagers these days! Leave my son unattended after playing all those violent video games and look what he did with his girlfriend while I was at work.”
(I really am lucky you know – I am blessed with a very good kid and I know it.)
I also suggested that probably it wasn’t a good idea to leave me unattended with a candied house. I was eyeing the shrubberies with some interest … but, it survived intact.
Anyway!
So – this is what was on the Christmas tree:
I have to admit, the first thought that went through my head was how huge she looked up there. It’s a tiny little tree.
Then the holiday spirit hit.
How thoughtful!
It was either from my sons girlfriend Chelsea, or my son somehow got it.
Either way, she was placed there while I slept and whether it was intended or not – put happy tears in my eyes and a warmth in my heart this morning.
So, Thank You to my secret angel.
(And Butters, that’s strike two – first you try to eat me, then you don’t protect me! Coal is in your future.)
Butters – and how I’m not going to be eaten by cats
I always assumed I’d meet my end dying unnoticed in my house, then being partially eaten by my copious amount of future cats. My body perhaps found by the Laundromat Lady when I didn’t show up on a Sunday to muse?
Turns out Butters is what I have to worry about.
I know this because last night as I was on my belly, inching across the floor – she tried to eat me.
Okay – rewind.
You might like a little back story.
(And funnily enough, that’s what it is.)
I was in my sons room saying ‘goodnight’ and asked ‘Can you crack my back without lifting me?’
Nothing worked, so I lay down on the floor and Nic stepped on me. I was stretched out and pulled myself forward on my elbows to lengthen my spine. It felt good.
So while I was down there – of course, I went into tangent mode.
‘What if I had a broken leg and had to get to the door??’
Only way to find out if I could reach the front door was to try it.
You know, like anyone laying on their childs bedroom floor would think to do. Nothing weird here.
So I’m pulling myself using only upper body strength across his carpet.
A military belly crawl, only, I wasn’t allowing myself to use my legs – they remained dead weight. (Remember, my imaginary broken leg … of course, I wasn’t factoring in the pain I’d have to contend with should I actually have a broken leg, but we work with what we have.)
I encountered tile and was unable to get a grip due to my flannel pajama bottoms and fleece sweatshirt. (*Note to self, break leg in clothing with more traction.)
I should have stopped there – experiment over. I was screwed once I hit a slippery surface.
But Nic’s in the spirit of things now and pulls me across that obstacle.
Next the kitchen.
By now – Butters has noticed me in a vulnerable position on the ground. Does she worry? Look upon me in curiosity? Go for help?
No! She attacks.
I’m scooting across the kitchen rug and intermittently having my head chewed on.
I tried playing dead – but she just kept running off and returning to gnaw on me.
“I’ve got her! Go! Go!”
Nic held her back as I inched into the living room.
Why am I still doing this?!? Because I’d come that far – that’s why.
I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going now, but it was very apparent that if I were home alone and did have to wriggle to a phone or an exit without using my legs, Butters would be the reason I wouldn’t succeed.
Experiment over.
I hadn’t quite forgiven her after I climbed into bed.
I lay there on my stomach, getting comfortable, my head turned to the right when I heard snorting and felt warmth on the back of my head.
*sigh*
Really??
I sleep on a California King sized mattress – there’s enough room for me, Butters and both sets of Charlie Buckets’ grandparents!
Yet, Butters, obviously exhausted from attacking me, was snoring less than 5 inches from the back of my head.
She has a side! This is ‘homeless dog’ that I took in that now has a side of my bed.
She doesn’t like to cuddle, so I decided it was likely she was guarding me like one of her bones.
(Oh gawd, what if my imaginary broken leg is a compound fracture?!?! She’ll try to drag my sticky-out bone off!)
Anyway, she was still tired this morning (good!) so I managed to capture evidence of her close proximity. Then I just pestered her for photos to be annoying.
She’s getting really sick of the camera.
Perhaps I need to remember to break my leg in clothes with traction and a camera around my neck … then I stand a chance.
Butters on the left, my pillow on the right.
Me being happy I was annoying the dog
Finding Grace
Last night as I lay in bed I felt shame.
Shame for allowing myself to be sad and for voicing it when I have so much to be grateful for.
The saying ‘there are others a lot worse off than you’ came to mind.
Then I wondered – who then, is within their rights to express their sadness or fears?
The person who has lost a limb? But there is someone who has lost two – or was born with none.
The person who is undergoing chemotherapy? There is someone who is terminally ill with no resources for any treatment at all.
The person who has lost the love of their life? There are people who have never known love.
These thoughts flooded my head with examples ad infinitum.
My last thought before I found sleep, was the realization that I was looking for excuses for my behavior.
And that was unacceptable to me.
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This morning, with a rested body and a more positive attitude, I was able to examine those thoughts without the end game being an argument for my negativity.
Sadness must be felt.
It must be because it is.
As simple as that.
It should never be discounted.
We should not tell people ‘you shouldn’t feel that way.’
Feeling pain or disappointment or fear is okay.
It must be felt.
Embraced – released – and remembered.
Yes.
Remembered.
Not lamented.
Letting go doesn’t mean you’re erasing something – it means you’re acknowledging that you don’t have to stay with it.
But to forget cripples our growth.
How are we to be grateful for good when we have not fully experienced bad?
How to know joy when sadness was hurried away? Brushed off as if it had no right to be on our shoulders?
As long as I can look fear or pain or sadness in the eye and ask the right question ‘What can I do about this?’ I should not be ashamed.
But never should I sit in discontent without voice or action.
Samples
Someone I work with gave me a little bag of perfume samples on Friday.
These are two of my favorite things. Little and Perfume.
I’ve said I’m not a girly girl – and it’s true when it comes to putting frosting on this cake – but perfumes … oh my goodness.
I don’t have a ‘signature’ scent. I love a variety of fragrances.
My sense of smell is incredible. I’ll alert you if the neighbors have just turned on the BBQ or someone a mile away has just cut their grass.
My memories are triggered by smell and sounds – more than visual prompts.
Rain, damp wood, garden herbs, distant skunk, air-dried linens – heaven.
I love them more because they’re infrequent.
So a sampling of new and amazing smells was such a wonderful gift.
Made me think (no surprise there) about moderation.
How much more grateful I am when I’m afforded only a little sample of a food or an experience or an author. (Much like Catcher in the Rye – well played J.D., well played.)
I treasure it then, the memory is folded carefully into my heart and not taken for granted.
A treat.
My favorite so far
I am so easily pleased.
Tiny, thoughtful gifts fill my heart.
Little treasures.
Which makes me wonder why I have such grandiose expectations of myself when it comes to gifting to others.
But that’s a tangent for another day.
Debauchery Soup 