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to the bone
December 28, 2010
bored to the bone
One of those weeks when showing up at the office feels even more pointless than usual. No one is there but me, so it is monotonous, tedious, and unrelieved staring at the computer for me, all day long. I can barely keep my eyes open.
chilled to the bone
And no respite from Spouse, either--he's on winter break and driving me crazy. And I can't even get away with the occasional inching up of the thermostat with him there all the time, so I sit in my icy living room, shivering, wiping my running nose, and waiting for a reasonable hour to head for my bed. I thought, when he did this last year, that it was all about saving money. But this year, with our monthly bill locked at the preferred customer flat rate, he's still doing it. And he tells me he keeps it comfortable. I need to get him to the doctor, because if he really, truly believes that sixty-two degrees (at the warmest!) is a comfortable temperature to have the house, he's fucking sick.
Besides which--who wrote the law that says he's the only one allowed to be comfortable? Why the hell do I have to freeze to the point where my hands won't work, because he's burning way too hot?
It's supposed to warm up a bit outside over the next few days, thank goodness. Maybe I'll at least be able to go out on the porch when I need to warm myself up!
squeezed to the bone
Mental note: Husbands should be forbidden to improvise when it comes to their wife's "products". O Spouse of Mine, heed this: there are better ways to save money than buying Walmart store brand tampons.
First of all, they are like buying Walmart eggs--whatever size it says on the box, they are going to be one size smaller.
Second of all, I don't believe I've ever, in the last 30 years or so, run into actual product failure with tampons at a rate above one per six or so boxes. This one package has had at least five.
Third: they may lead you to believe that they are patterned after Kotex, but that would be a lie.
Nope. Back to Kotex for me, and if he's so worried about the damned budget, HE can start having the periods. Then he can buy any damned old brand he wants. (Cripes, isn't it enough that I already prefer the cheapest name brand you can get?)
To explain further the extent of my husband's sudden attack of parsimony, I offer this last point: We are having 5-day-old meatloaf for dinner. I'll probably die of ptomaine in my sleep tonight.
Reading: Hobby--"Kitty Canary" (1913), by Kate Langley Bosher and a Mildred Wirt girl's series (what books of it I can get) of a little bit later period--the Penny Parker books. Starting with "The Tale of the Witch Doll", from 1939.
General--e-book re-read of an old Agatha Christie novel, "The Sittaford Mystery". Which actually turns out to be "Murder at Hazlemoor" under its English title. Which I've read a couple of times already. Library download, so I'm not out anything for the error.
Surfing:
Listening: NPR. Jann Arden. Elvis Costello.
At Random:
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