Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

The story is the same across the country. People are camping out so they can get a Playstation 3. If I were more of a geek, I’d do the same thing.

I commend these folks on their perserverance.

Some days it’s good to stay quiet and just listen. Today is one of those days.

I finally gave in and went to the doctor’s today for a small rash I’ve had on my forehead for the past couple of months. I know, I should have gone to the doctor sooner but the rash wasn’t spreading, wasn’t getting worse and it wasn’t impeding my looks so I was just dealing with it.

I hate going to the doctor’s, despite the fact that our family doctor is very nice and not bad to look at in all his yummy scruffiness. I mean, who likes going to the doctor? At age 38 though, I suppose it’s the responsible thing to do so I even made an appointment for my yearly physical that’s a year too late. At least I’m making an effort.

One thing that surprised me was when he told me blood pressure was “excellent” at 130/78. During the last couple of visits, over a year ago, he sort of scolded me for high blood pressure (158/98) and was urging for a physical then, but I ignored him and just avoided going. Today he pointed out that I was almost 35 pounds heavier a year ago (I didn’t realize I had lost that much weight) and that was a good thing. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

All this healthy good news makes me yearn to jump on the bike and go for a ride. I always feel the need to go cycling between the middle of November and the middle of February, then I sort of lose interest when the weather is actually conducive to riding my bike.

So now I have a little cream to put on the little rash over my eye. I have a physical in December and he’s going to set up an appointment with a dermotologist just to make sure I don’t have anything else going on. He seemed particularly interested in the freckles on my head, I reminded him that he wouldn’t even know they were there if I wasn’t bald and then I assured him that I’m often well basted in sunscreen or at least I keep my head covered with a hat as appropriate.

It looks like I’m going to be around for a while longer.

I rarely do these meme things but today I figured what the heck. Courtesy of Karl and The Persian Guy

A is for Age: 38
B is for Beer of choice: Michelob Ultra. I have a figure to maintain.
C is for Career: Once in working with the disabled, then I was a radio DJ and program director, currently in IT, I hope to become a traffic engineer.
D is for favorite Drink: Unsweetened iced tea.
E is for Essential item I use everyday: Mach III over my head
F is for Favorite song at the moment: “Jump (Extended Mix)”, Madonna.
G is for favorite Game: “Let me In, Let Me Out!” with our cat.
H is for Hometown: Little tiny hamlet of Richland, New York.
I is for Instruments I play: Tuba. Some piano. Some other brass instruments a little bit.
J is for favorite Juice: OJ
K is for Kids: None. Once upon a time Earl and I were going to adopt but never did.
L is for Last kiss: 6:30 this morning.
M is for Marriage: Absolutely, bring it on Governor Elect Elliot Spitzer.
N is for Name of my best friend: My partner Earl.
O is for Overnight Hospital stays: Too many to count. I like to think of them as bionics upgrades.
P is for Phobias: I used to wig out about elevators but not anymore.
Q is for Quote: “Life is such a sweet insanity”, Roberta Flack, theme from The Hogan Family.
R is for biggest Regret: Learn, don’t regret.
S is for Self confidence: I’m working on it. By 38 you’d think it’d fully be here by now.
T is for Time I wake up: Variable depending on my work schedule.
U is for Underwear: Tighty-whiteys or boxers or none. Depends on my mood.
V is for Vegetable I love: I love all vegetables!
W is for Worst habit: Losing my temper and saying stupid things.
X is for X-rays I’ve had: Oh lots. I’m a vogue cover model of the “inside out” set.
Y is for Yummy food I make: Chocolate chip coookies courtesy of my grandmother’s recipe
Z is for Zodiac: Cancer.

Our cat Tom is a rebel. He watched me last night as I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Always wary of the vacuum cleaner, he sits perched on the back of the couch or on the bed and keeps watch on the proceedings of cleaning the house. Apparently he didn’t like last night’s proceedings because this morning I watched him fling cat litter out of his box all over the floor, and I just know it was on purpose, and I now he’s busying himself by eating half a nugget of kibble and spitting the rest on the floor.

I think he thinks he’s funny.

Tonight after class I’ll have to chase him around with the vacuum cleaner. Calm down, I’m kidding. I’ll chase Earl instead.

This morning while eating breakfast, I saw Tom go scurrying across the kitchen floor and tear into the dining room at high speed. He appeared to be in pursuit of something. Turns out he was chasing something across the floor.

It was a dust bunny.

Since I had shoveled a space for myself at the kitchen table just moments before, I figured that the universe was giving me not-so-subtle hints that we needed to clean the house.

I don’t know what we were thinking three years ago. “Let’s buy a house twice the size of the old one, and to keep it interesting, let’s leave the housekeeper behind!” What the hell was I thinking. It’s almost as ludicrous as having a performance “Sleeping Beauty” next to the service porch of the Brady house.

Granted, I often referred to our old housekeeper as Agnes Destructo and I often wondered if she was going to go up in flames from smoking while spraying bleach as an air freshener, but at least the house looked good.

So tonight I dusted and swiffered and sucked up everything in sight. By the way, can someone please tell me the purpose of the hole with a moveable cover in the vacuum cleaner hose? What is the purpose of that? To reduce the amount of suction? “My God, I’ve sucked up the cat, better release the pressure.” I don’t think so. I find it annoying and worthy of a swath of duct tape.

Our county has a crazy code that every home built after 1995 must have a telephone jack in each room. I guess the geniuses had never heard of a cordless phone getup before and decided they were doing the public service a favor. You know what they should have done? Required central vacuum systems in every home.

I was a spoiled little cub growing up. My grandparents had a beautiful house next door to our mobile home. Grandma would bake cookies or some other good-farm-wife inspired dessert weekday afternoons and I would trot over after getting off the bus to catch “Bewitched” and “I Dream of Jeannie”, eat some cookies, drink some milk and hang out with Grams as she did her household chores. Their house was so big it had two central vacuum systems (one at each end). Gram never lugged around a vacuum cleaner canister get up, getting all twisted in the cord and emptying the bag after every room because of all the dust she sucked up. No, she had a hose and a wand that she plugged into ports strategically located throughout the house. No muss, no fuss. When my dad built our house a few years later, it had a central vacuum system. Again, no muss, no fuss.

Why the hell doesn’t this house that’s less than ten years old have such a thing? I have a good mind to buy one and put one in myself. Some pipe, some drilling, a little luck and voila, instant domestic bliss. Why get a sock stuck in the wand with a hole when you can lodge it nice and tight in some dark recess of a wall?

Let’s face it, if I have the energy to install a central vacuum system then I must certainly have the energy to clean the house the old fashioned way. By witchcraft.

I keep telling Earl that I’m going to hire a housekeeper for this house. His only requirement is that they’re male, naked and work after hours.

Sounds good to me.