the blog that almost wasn't

I don’t want to write a blog tonight.  In fact, I don’t want to do anything but read a book while lounging in my bed, listening to a pre-recorded thunderstorm, in my pajamas.

Today I had the classic, post holiday weekend blues. 

It wasn’t as bad as say…the day after Halloween…or the day after Christmas.  It was a mild version, but it was the post holiday blues, nonetheless.  I think it may have had something to do with all the excitement of the weekend—having company adds to the spectacle of a three day weekend immensely.

I had a great time this weekend, so when I rolled out of bed this morning and realized that my day would consist of vet visits, laundry, and dishes…I was most disheartened.  I didn’t want to clean the house.  I wanted to find something fun to do.  I wanted to shop, and eat in a restaurant, and flirt with celebrities.  Or at least get a pedicure with a girl friend. 

I had no such luck on the pedicure front today. 

Instead, I took Indy to the vet first thing this morning for his weekly weigh in—he is now tipping the scale at 64.4lbs.  Does that deserve an exclamation point?  It is certainly getting more difficult to lift his backend onto the bed when he decides he wants to check out the view from the pillow top.  After grabbing a quick bite of lunch, and swapping dogs at the house, I was back at the vet for the second appointment of the day.  I sat by her head as the vet tech cleaned black stuff out of my geriatric Labrador’s ear—and cringed as she shook her head and the cleaning solution bathed me in eau d’apple ciger vinegar.  Still, it could have been worse…at least she waited to shake until the black stuff was all cleaned out.

So finally, with my vet appointments behind me, what was I to do with my post Labor Day Tuesday? 

After running assorted errands, I took a quick trip to the antique mall on a quest to find a grain sack (just like the one I was talked out of buying on Saturday.)  I didn’t find a grain sack, but I did find fresh organic chicken eggs.  Amazingly, the owner of the antique mall has chickens, and is now selling the free-range, organic, just laid yesterday, eggs.  I bought two dozen eggs for less than what I would have paid at the grocery store, and mine still had a few feathers in the mix.  Mike was, of course, thrilled.  His suburban homesteader self would like to be harvesting our own eggs, so getting any eggs fresh from the source was a delight to him.  It’s just one step away from having chickens of our own.

The rest of the day was spent doing nothing of importance whatsoever.

As I waited for Mike to finish work for the day, I observed the dogs in their daily routines—this, in and of itself, was somewhat interesting.  Indiana Jones, (still the reigning puppy even at just under sixty-five pounds) has developed the curious habit of stealing my underwear and placing them in his water bowl.  I can only imagine that he has concluded that they need to be washed…and since he is harvesting them from my dirty clothes basket…he would be correct.  He has also decided that his favorite toy—his stuffed piggy—needs a drink.  The piggy was placed strategically over the water bowl to aid in its ability to have said drink of water.  Sadly, the piggy did not get anything other than wet.  Much to Indy’s disappointment, the underwear and the pig were each put back to where they belonged. 

After a very late dinner, Mike and I set out to find books on barn houses.  There are sadly very few in existence.  Of course, if I was willing to live in a yurt, there are many choices to choose from. I would rather pick from the slim barn pickings—and we did actually find one that satisfied our needs (and I picked up a new book for myself…the one I was going to read instead of write tonight’s blog, in fact.)

On our way home, we were almost rear ended by an old man who was paying far more attention to the distant lights of the local Wal-Mart than he was to the brake lights in front of him.  Mike had to swerve into the intersection, and the old man ended up alongside of us, where I gave him dirty looks as Mike scolded me.  I wanted to take a picture of him (the man, not Mike) but I was cautioned to look away.  I don’t know why, but maybe it had something to do with the scary movie we watched recently where some woman was cursed and dragged into the fires of Hell for something far more obnoxious than taking a picture of someone.  I guess one can’t risk bad karma just for nothing.  So no pictures for me. 

All in all it was a pretty boring post holiday Tuesday.  I have nothing exciting to report, nothing funny to write, and so I guess I’m not going to bother with tonight’s blog at all…or…well…I guess I already wrote it didn’t I?

Until the next time…I’ll be hoping for a more exciting Wednesday!

Copyright © 2000-2018, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.
Posted on September 7, 2010 .