Tuna the toilet trained cat (Photo credit: trainedcat)
Why didn’t anyone tell us that chihuahuas are such a pain in the butt to potty train?
Our potty training program is in the toilet, and I’m a little pissed off at all the wasted effort and money down the drain.
Urine for a surprise if you think training a wee wee dog is easy.
English: Cancer patient in hospital with neutropenia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I hate that good people often die young.
I hate that I can’t stop it.
I hate that death rips families apart.
I hate knowing someone’s dying. And I hate when they die before I knew they were going to. I hate knowing someone’s dying and thinking I had a couple more years or months or weeks or days… and then finding out they died right before our planned visit. That’s happened a few times.
I hate the fact that I can research anything on the internet — like cancer, cancer fighting strategies, cancer diets, cancer prevention, cancer coping strategies, cancer patient care, cancer cures, cancer prayers, and a million other topics, but I can’t find the definitive answer on any of the sites. It’s all speculation. Some studies back up some of it, but no source seems to be 100% credible when you consider the entire range of topics they cover.
I hate it when people I love face extraordinarily difficult challenges in this world — illness, loss, pain, fear.
I like knowing that I believe there’s something good that follows this world. I wish everyone else believed it too — because it’d ease the pain that death brings.
We just returned from a family reunion campout. My cousin showed up with a gorgeous renovated retro camping trailer. On the outside it’s boring. On the inside it’s magnificent — a vision in 1950s white and aqua, with an adorable little retro microwave in chrome and aqua, which makes little sense since microwaves aren’t retro.
camp (Photo credit: tw3k)
I am similarly inspired to fancy-up the insides of my little motorcycle trailer (we don’t own a motorcycle. It’s a really small trailer). Yesterday I bought scarves at a thrift store. The day before I sorted through themed pictures online and created a huge scrapbook of ideas that I want to do but probably never will.
If you want to find out more about glamping (glamor camping) there’s tons of info on the web. It’s a hot new hobby.
If you want to rip off all my ideas for my glamper, go find my Pinterest board and use my inspiration to make your glamper really cool while mine continues to sit neglected in the driveway, unrenovated, unimproved, unfun. (And it’s probably raining outside)
English: Advertising postcard, picture side, for the “Happy Day” washing machine, sold by the National Sewing Machine Co. of Belvidere, Illinois. Opposite side of unmailed card shows boilerplate message: “Dear Madam:/ If you will try the ‘Happy Day’ Washing Machine, you will surely buy it, because it operates so easily and cleanses so very thoroughly.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Today we threw $99 at a washing machine fixer. The diagnosis: overloaded machine.
A few months ago, we tossed $99 at a washing machine fixer. The diagnosis: heavy sleeping bag overloaded the machine.
About six months ago we pelted fistfuls of cash at a washing machine fixer. The diagnosis: putting too much into the washing machine at the same time, which overloaded the machine and put too much strain on the motor.
Last year we flung half our bank account at a washing machine fixer. The diagnosis: yes.
When I opted out of doing the laundry about 30 years ago it was because there were zillions of spiders in the basement and I couldn’t stand going down there. We’re in a different house now (centipedes).
When the cost of replacing sweaters washed in scalding water outweighs my dislike for insects on my legs, I will start doing laundry again.
When the cost of replacing the washing machine motor outweighs the pain of reading the directions on the lid, we will enjoy a little monetary savings.
Til then, if you need cash, consider taking up washing machine repair and moving into my neighborhood.
Image via CrunchBase
If I wanted to pay lots of extra money to “go pro” with a blog, I’d use my own design and my own rules. Stop asking, WordPress. You might scare me over to Blogspot or inspire me to start up a competitor blog site.
Secret denunciations against anyone who will conceal favors and services or will collude to hide the true revenue from them. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Anyone know how to avoid plastering my name all over my blog? Maybe sometimes grouches want to remain anonymous. Grr.
Jatropha subaequiloba seeds (Photo credit: tonrulkens)
I’m a grouch sometimes. This blog will be 100% grouchiness. Come here when you want to commiserate. I’ll be waiting for you. Over there, in the corner, in the shade, where the stupid sun isn’t too bright, but where the bugs gather because it’s cooler. And the grass is wet. And now my feet itch. Grr. Whatever.
(That photo shows a collection of some sort of seed. Looks like a huddle of ugly lambies to me. Point of view is everything. My POV is grouchy but I expect that venting in this safe place will change it. Eventually.)