I got nothing of any consequence accomplished as of this time, today. Perfectly good day off and it's just about the time I'd be trying to leave work.. and what have I got to show for it?? The house is in worse shape than when the weekend started. The futon is open, (MissCocoDolly came home), the kitchen is the stuff nightmares are made of. Laundry wants to be folded but I'm ignoring it at this time. I have to so some letter thing to the Nissan people about my new lease. The dishwasher cannot be emptied because I have neglected to start it. And I'm dying for linguine with clam sauce but have neither the will nor inclination to make the sauce. I'm done in that kitchen for the rest of the day. I don't want to see how filthy the floor is. I don't want to see the broom mocking me from it's hiding spot next to the refrigerator. I'd much rather watch Bottleshock and drink wine for the rest of the afternoon.
Lou and I are going to Gettysburg next Friday. Friday is a day spent on the battlefield and poking around the museums and Saturday is a wine and music festival. I still have to make dinner reservations for both nights, find some touristy ghost tour thing and decide if I want to start racking up the unnecessary miles on the new lease or rent a car.
I did not put the autumn decorations on the front steps. My plan in that regard is to leave a plate of pumpkin pie out in the hopes that it will transform itselt into garlands, orange lights and scarecrow people al la cinderella. I mean, if the Brother's Grimm can pull shit like that off, why cannot I?? Hell, I'll even do a bibidy bobidy boo dance if it would save me the trouble of hacking through that mess I call a garage to look for my decorations. Every damn year it's the same damn thing...put the shit away neatly and it will be nice and tidy for you when you want it again. I mean christ, isn't that what we were taught when we were what..? 3?? But no, I just put in there and hope for the best. How can you hope for the best when the very place you are storing your stuff in has an ivy vine that doesn't seem to matter the lack of traditional sunlight...and is about 25 feet long, and starting to choke everything you have suspended on the walls? Who am I kidding?? My exhusband was just in there a couple of hours ago looking for some chairs for a party he's having next week. He didn't notice the vine (which resembles something Jack would be able to climb to find that errant goose that lays the golden eggs) or he chose not to comment. Commenting could mean that either I'm as poor a gardener as I am a housekeeper (and honestly, I'm not that bad a housekeeper, I just don't want to expend the energy by getting up close and personal with pie crust crumbs) or that we might have some area of the garage roof that is in such disrepair that ivy can meander inside. Take your pick, both answers suck.
But, back to the decorations...I'm pretty sure I know where they are. They should be in the area of the coffin I have in there. Yes, I have a coffin in the garage. It's of a stage prop type, and looks quite victorian. It was made for my 40th birthday party - the theme was a jazz funereal. It's black with gold handles and filled with soft cushy pink satin. By the end of the party, the thing was filled with gifts and flowers and now I have no real use for it. I suppose I could use it for what it was made for, one day...but that's a whole nother topic and I don't really expect to ever need one, anyway. When it comes to dying, someone is going to make an exception in my case. I'm sure of it.
So, time to start looking into the Gettysburg fine dining situations, checking into ghost sightings (I had seen something that mentioned a victorian funeral which sounds very very cool) and possibly do something about procuring some clam sauce.
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