Stuph I gotta do…
…before we leave for Maine tomorrow…
~ color my hair! I gotta do this before Mike comes home, several hours before, because he hates the smell of the stuph (even Garnier Nutrisse, which is less stinky, as these things go). But it needs to be done, so I will do it soon after I finish this post. I will probably also give myself a little haircut, too. YES, I do cut my own hair!
~ LAUNDRY! It never ends! I need to find my Sanford Mainers T-shirt, which I haven’t worn since we last went to a game there two years ago…surely it needs washing, even though it might be already clean. I hope it won’t rain tomorrow night, and that we can go to the game! If not, we’ll just find something else to do.
~PACK…and put my bag out in the car in the deep dark of night. Mike refuses to understand why I like to do this. The reason is that I don’t want our asshat neighbors to see us loading luggage into the car, and think that they have open season on our house. I hate this neighborhood, I hate the other people who live around here, and I trust them about as far as I can throw them.
The landladies here are okay…they mean well and all…but I still don’t like to tell them we’re going away for one of two nights, when we’re not using our cat-sitter. They are very *home improvement* happy, and I always fear that they might use our absence as carte blanche to bring their lame-assed *Bob The Builder* guys in here to do shit while we are gone. I would rather them think we’re just gone for a few hours, or for the day, and that we can come back at any time. I don’t want these losers in my house at all, not even when I am here. The guys the landladies tend to hire are kind of skeevy, and I can’t believe they let these guys alone in their unit while they are out.
When we are using Patti, the cat-sitter, as we will when we take a longer trip in August, we DO tell the landladies, and the fact that Patti is around keeps Bob The Builder out. They know damned well that Patti would call me on my cell if she came in here and saw these asshats in the place. That’s part of what a good pet-sitter does…lets you know if anything is amiss at home. If she came in here to feed the cats, and saw these asshats dismantling our bathroom or something, damned straight she’d call and ask if I knew about this. Because, if we WERE having guys come in to dismantle the bathroom, we’d give her a heads-up on this!
In any case, I just don’t want the white trash ghetto people who surround us to know too much about our comings and goings. I am not a very trusting soul when it comes to these people.
Well, I’d better get started on the coloring o’ the hair!
