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skunked
May 04, 2015
Horrible weekend. The weather was good, but that just meant that Spouse decided to write a long, ambitious, and agressive list of shit "we" wanted to get done.
So from Friday afternoon until Saturday evening, there was an endless stream of errands, house chores, shopping, and yardwork to be done. Totally exhausting. By the time I was ready to go to bed at about 11:00 p.m., I was completely beat. Time to let the dog out to pee one last time, and hit the mattress.
Yeah. Well. I let the dog out--and he got skunk-sprayed. Just outside my open bedroom window.
So that was a frantic couple of hours; a frenzied blur of trying to get the dog de-stinkified, trying to get the house aired out, and trying to get my own self cleaned up. If I'd ever managed to get some sleep, I would've thought it was a nightmare.
And once we finally got everything settled down somewhat? The dog started puking.
I guess a reaction to all that excitement, and midnight bathing. Well, and since he got hit square in the face--probably a reaction to the skunk spray, too.
So, after all of that, I got to sleep in on Sunday, right?
Cute.
No, because we had to get up and do more cleaning and more laundry--the aftermath of the skunking--and make breakfast (pancakes and sausage) and clean up from that, and then he wanted to go to Sturtevant to the Farm and Fleet and do some clothes-shopping.
So we did. He got jeans and a couple of shirts. Despite a supreme lack of interest, I got new sneakers, jeans, and a shorts set for vacation. And picked up some Nature's Miracle Skunk Odor Remover!
And a new can of Bag Balm, which has undergone the same "shrinkening" as so many products over the last several years. Sometime between my last purchase and this one, they shrunk the classic 10-ounce can down to 8. Well, at least buying it in an actual farm store saves me about $4 over the drugstore. Since it is the only thing that really helps my awful hands and cuticles, I should count myself fortunate that it is as cheap as it is.
After we got done there, we ran out to where the model aviation club meets, so Spouse could see about joining. Lots of guys there, and nobody flying because the wind was too gusty, so I stayed in the car while he talked to them for a while.
After we got home, we gave the B a Nature's Miracle treatment and another bath, but to be honest? I don't think that stuff made any difference at all.
After we finished that, Spouse went off to take a nap. I would have loved one myself, but I was afraid that I was so tired I'd end up sleeping all afternoon, and then not sleeping all night. So I read, and did some pen maintenance, and fiddled around on my tablet all afternoon. I had planned on spending some time at the sewing maching on Sunday, but I was just too tired. It would have been a mess.
We made dinner together--roast chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy, and fresh, steamed carrots. Simple and delicious. We had been cooking out all weekend, but it rained in the evening, so we went with plan "B".
Spouse is on a Jell-O kick, so I made him black cherry for Saturday, lemon for Sunday, and raspberry for tonight. Hey, it's cheap, easy, and makes him happy. I don't care for it, but he eats it all anyway.
I cleaned up the kitchen and attempted to watch some HIGNFY and QI, and to play some word games--but I was just too tired. I ended up just getting my stuff ready for morning and going to bed.
I didn't sleep very well, according my tracker and according to me. I had night sweats, too, which sucks the rest out of things. Just too tired, I guess.
I did one thing just for me and my own spirits this weekend; it should arrive tomorrow. I probably shouldn't have, but frankly? I don't care. I ordered myself the Conklin Duragraph, in amber. Fine nib. And a bottle of Pelikan Brilliant Brown to ink it up with. I really wanted my next one to have a tortoiseshell look, and there just isn't anything to be had in the lower price ranges. I'm up to nearly $50 for this one. But the minute I saw it, I fell. As exhausted as I am, I get a tingle just thinking about it. I've gone a long time without anything to give me that lift, so I have to believe that my current passion for pens is a good thing.
And I refuse to feel guilty, as long as model airplane magazines and $50 boxes of cigars keep showing up on my doorstep. I wish I could get over that weirdness I feel when I spend some money on something frivolous for myself. Spouse actually encourages my interest in developing a new hobby. He's not judging me--regardless of what my skewed perceptions tell me. He thinks I deserve to have a reward for working hard.
But chalk it up to the way I was raised, I guess. I wasn't brought up to believe I was worthy of expense, and any money I brought home was for necessities, so as to relieve my mom of having to spend "her" money on me.
Maybe I'm just rationalizing--I don't know. But I like to frame it as "buying a $50 pen is striking a blow for my sanity". So I'm just going to go ahead and believe that.
Reading:
"Brenda's Bargain; A Story for Girls" (1903), by Helen Leah Reed. #4 of the Brenda Barlow series.
Listening: Guns-N-Roses, Metallica and White Zombie. I'm in a messed up mood.
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