Recovered nicely from the little faux pas I committed on the golf clubs. Sat down, hashed it out, made everything better. Wasn’t a money thing, it was more a thing about a lost opportunity (it was SO HARD to not mention the anniversary presents Cindy has gotten me in the past – like NONE) and a little breakdown in communication. Now she’s going to go play martyr and not get herself anything for our 30th anniversary next month. I’m certainly not getting her anything because the last thing I got her (a ring with 3 diamonds set up in a band on our 25th, to replace her engagement ring that had lost its diamond) she took back to the jewelry store and tried to exchange it for some fucked up idea of a ring she wanted that even the store clerk told her was a bad idea. (Run-on sentence much?)
So yeah, she wants to play martyr after she said (in front of witnesses) that she was going to get this ring for herself for our anniversary and use it to replace the one that was stolen out of our luggage on the Mexico trip. I am not touching this one – even with some one else’s hand. If she wants to be a martyr – let her. I will enjoy my clubs.
Bathroom project has advanced to my favorite (NOT) phase – mudding the walls. I quit yesterday around 4:30. It was so hot & muggy upstairs that I couldn’t drink water as fast as I was losing it through sweat. Have the first coat of mud on in the bathroom proper, but the closet & re-work done in the bedroom need some attention. Maybe tonight.
Know how hot & dry it’s been here since the beginning of June? It’s so dry, the weeds are wilting. Grass has gone dormant (& crunchy), we’re down to watering the foundation plantings & shrubs and the odd tree that needs a drink. We walked over to the ice cream place behind our house and noted that this big patch of goldenrod & sheeps quarter was all wilty. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen weeds shrivel up like that without using Round-Up or some other ethyl-methyl-deadly-shit on them. Of course it’s raining today.
In the irony department, I saw a little article out of Syracuse a couple weeks ago. There’s been a grass roots movement rallying to repeal New York’s motorcycle helmet law for literally decades. (I remember them riding en masse in protest back in the 70’s). Well, a couple of weeks ago during another mass ride protest, one of the riders was involved in an accident and smacked his (unprotected) head on the road, or car, or phone pole. Ultimately? Died of severe head trauma. I snorted a little laugh when I read the article. Cindy asked me what I was laughing at. I told her. She called me mean for laughing at the poor bastard. I argued that I’m not mean, I just recognize irony when I see it. Now karma – she’s one mean bitch!