I wanna go backwards

Here's the thing:

Being an adult blows.

Bills, jobs, and responsibility.

The only good thing I got out of becoming an adult was Stephen.

So that is why I've decided I want to go back. Back to high school.

I'm sure some of you are staring at your computer screen with mouths agape.

I'm sure some of you are saying, "WHAT?!?!?" with a very incredulous tone.

The question on every one's mind is undoubtedly, "Who wants to go back to high school?"

I do.

And here's why:
Before I turned 18, my responsibilities were pretty limited. I helped around the house. I did my homework. Yep, that was about it. Now, not only am I responsible for a job, an apartment, and etc, but I'm also taking care of another fully grown human. We do share the responsibilities, but still. It's a lot.

I took for granted all the things my parents did for me. They fed me, clothed me, let me drive their cars, let me spend their money, talked to me, counseled me, loved me, and let me move to Missouri after I graduated. If I went back, I could thank them more and make sure they knew they were appreciated.

In high school, "money" was something I took from my mom and dad. I did not earn it or budget it or save it. I spent it. Now that I have pesky things like bills zipping into my mailbox every couple days, I think I'd rather go back to not caring about monies.


No one ever went anywhere. I mean, I think a few of my friends moved away in elementary school, but by the time I went to jr. high, I pretty much knew every one. I had the same group of friends from 9th grade until graduation. It was awesome. There was none of this moving to different states nonsense, like I have to deal with now. (BTW: I MISS MY FRIENDS)

Innocence. Bliss. This was high school.

Was it all candy mountain and rose petals?

No!

Most of the time, I hated high school. It was awkward and weird and... well, high school.


But it was a simpler time. And these days, with adulthood stretching endlessly before me, I long for the simpler days.

True story.

Five Stages

This Sunday's edition of Weekend Listing is going to be a sad one.

Today, I have gone through the five stages of grief:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Why, you ask? What has happened to cause me to go through all these stages in once day?

Well, I'll tell you.

This morning, my hair dryer would not work.

Stage 1: Denial
After I put on my makeup, I picked up my hair dryer to dry my hair before church. I made sure it was plugged in first. Then I flipped the little switch. Nothing happened. So I reached up (I was upside down with my glasses off) and made sure it was all the way plugged in and pushed that little red button. Still nothing. So I unplugged it and plugged it in again and pushed the little red button. Still nothing. So I straightened up and put on my glasses and called for Stephen. I said that the outlet wasn't working. So I went out into our room and tried the outlet by my closet. Still nothing. I unplugged and plugged it, and again pushed that little red button. Again, nothing. So Stephen took it into the other bathroom and tried it. I began to feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. He came back and said the 2 saddest words you can hear about a hair dryer, "It's dead."

Stage 2: Anger
I froze for a moment. Then the madness welled up. Of course the hair dryer (that I've had for about 2 years) would decide not to work on a Sunday morning when I need to dry my hair to go to church!! How dare it stop working!! Now I would have to figure out a way to put my hair up with those little clips (that hurt my head after a few hours) really fast, cause we had to leave soon! I contemplated throwing that un-handy device clear across the room. And then I had a thought...

Stage 3: Bargaining
Maybe it wasn't really all the way dead. Maybe I could find a plug somewhere in the apartment that could make it come back to life. Maybe I just didn't press the little red button enough times. Maybe ALL the outlets in the apartment were burnt out and nothing worked. Maybe we just needed to flip the fuse!

Stage 4: Depression
As I realized that all of these suggestions were ludicrous, I almost started to cry. A woman grows to depend on her hair dryer. It's a source of comfort to know that it will be there, working properly in the morning. It becomes a part of the routine. So when it malfunctions (or in my case, just stops turning on) it's both shocking and very very sad... And to make matters worse, not only was my hair dryer sitting in the trash can, I had to go to church with wet hair! These thoughts were enough to make me want to lay back down and cry instead of going to church.

Stage 5: Acceptance
But, eventually, I came to realize that this was not the end of the world. I could put my hair up with the little clips. No, it wouldn't look super great, but at least I wouldn't have wet hair down my back. At least I could throw in a cute headband to distract from the fact that my hair had not been dried properly. At least Stephen and I could go to Wal-Mart later to buy me a new hair dryer so that I don't have to go to work tomorrow with wet hair. So I clipped up my hair and we left for church (only a few minutes later than Stephen wanted to leave).

So that is my Sunday morning saga.

It was sad, yes, but I triumphed.

And here is the moral of the story:

One might consider having an extra hair dryer on hand for those unforseen circumstances.

I have spoken.

Reader Discretion is Advised

I would say 'Happy Saturday', but this is one of the blackest Saturdays I've ever faced.

The story I am about to share is not for the faint of heart. It will disturb you.

This I promise.

I know you were all looking forward to a weekend listing.
I was.

But, sometimes things happen that change your whole life.

This is one of those stories.

Stephen and I were headed to Wal-Mart this afternoon to buy groceries.

We made our list and we were all set to go. I just needed to grab something to go over the shirt I had on.

So I went to my closet and put on my brown hoodie-type thing.

***********(This is where it gets awkward/awful)*****************

I was about to zip it up when I felt something in my shirt.

Assuming it was just hair, I reached to remove it.

It was a spider.

A SPIDER!

It had been roosting on my brown hoodie-type thing and crawled onto me.

I flipped.

I stripped.

I screamed.

And started shaking and crying.

(I shudder just thinking back. Big convulsive shudders)

So Stephen came in to see what the commotion was and I less than calmly screamed "Spider in my shirt!!!"

So he searched the floor, found the spider and killed it.

I couldn't stop shaking.

I was convinced it bit me.

I am still convinced it bit me.

So, if in a few days I die, or become Spider-woman, be on alert.

This could happen to you. I wasn't prepared. But I am now.

Stephen will not only bug-check my slippers, but he will be spider checking my entire closet before I will go near it.

I may never wear that brown hoodie-thing again.

Let my story caution you. I hope none of you have to face the horrors that I did. I hope none of you have to go to sleep at night and dream about the spider that attacked you.

(This is a Public Service Announcement and a true story)

Shoe Things

I have decided that one of the most uncomfortable things ever is having to walk around with a thing stuck in your shoe.

It's awful!

And it's even more painful/annoying when you are unable to stop and get the thing out of your shoe for a while.

Let's say you are on a first date. You want to make a good impression, right? He picked you up, you're headed to a nice restaurant, and you're excited. But on the way into the place, you get some thing stuck in your shoe. You can't shake your shoe out at the table; you would look silly. And you could excuse yourself to use the restroom, but you went to the restroom like 5 minutes ago and you don't want your date to think something is wrong with you. So you leave it in there. And then you have a super hard time paying attention to conversation, because all you can think about is having something stuck in your shoe.

Or let's say that you are at work. You decided to wear your cute boots and you are looking awesome. Then, you feel a little pebble or some thing stuck in your boot! Now you are really in a pickle. You can't take off your boot at work... It would look strange and be time-consuming. Someone might accuse you of being a 'time-thief'. So you leave it in, promising yourself you won't wear boots to work for a long time.

How about this: You are out walking your dog. Or to be more accurate, he is walking you. You are being pulled so quickly down the sidewalk that people look like peach-colored blurs in your peripheral. Suddenly you feel it: a stabbing thing is in your shoe. But can you top to remove said thing? NO! You are propelling down the street, at the mercy of your dog. You just pray that the thing doesn't rub a big hole in your foot till you get home!

Well, here is my story. I had a temporary job today. I wore little brown slip-on shoes with those knee-high nylon socks. The place I was working was not easy to find and I was running late and I was frustrated. And in my haste to get inside the building, I was careless. I stepped out of my shoe hurrying in, and a little pebble wedged itself in. Not in my shoe. No, this little thing got all the way into my nylon sock! How, you may ask?

I HAVE NO IDEA.

But, there it was. And I couldn't very well roll up my pant leg and pull off the sock and shake it out right there in the front room of the office. So I left it there. Left it there for 9 hours.

It was truly, truly one of the longest days I have ever spent anywhere.

So here is my caution to you all: Step lightly. Avoid those things at all costs.

I have spoken.

April Fools?

Stephen thought that I should say that I am pregnant in my blog post tonight, to be followed quickly by "APRIL FOOLS!!", but I didn't think it was a good idea.

(I'm not. At all. Don't worry!)

However, this day does raise a question...
WHY??

Why have a special day for pulling pranks on people? I'm usually opposed to practical jokes in general. I just don't think they are funny most of the time.

Well, to be honest, I like it when they happen to other people, or when I see them on tv or in movies. That's cool. But I'm not a fan when they happen to me.

Does this make me hypocritical? Maybe... I'm ok with that.

To steal from my sister's blog, we'll call this a borrowed "Talk Thursday".
Do you like April Fools Day/practical jokes?
Do you like them better if they happen to other people instead of you?
Do you like planning and delievering practical jokes?

Let's hear your thoughts!!

Enemies

As most of you know, I am a pretty normal person. I have some quirks, yes, but overall I'm pretty awesome.

I can get along with most humans, if I want to, and I can get along with most things in nature too.

But there are a few creatures in this world that I cannot coexist with peacefully.

I will now share this not-so-super-secret list with you:

Dogs: Over the years, my family had a fair share of household pets. Dogs, cats, birds, hamsters, iguanas, rats, gerbils, guinea pigs, fish... You know, the usual. Except for rats and iguanas, maybe.

Anyway, of all the creatures we allowed to roam our home, I usually liked the dogs best. Until horrible things happened to them. Like the puppy who died weeks after we got her, or the puppy that I found with my friends who had a whole host of problems (worms, fleas, a hernia...). Or the last dog my family had, Chief, a giant monster of a German shepherd who barked and dug and dug and barked and got muddy and barked. Somewhere between my favorite dog, Gunner, and the other dogs we had, I lost affection for them. Dogs bark and bite and slobber and leave hair every where and drool and they are so needy! I think, as a human, I should get the corner on being needy. So, I'm not a big fan of dogs anymore.

Cats: I liked one of the cats we had, name of Roo. He was kind of a special cat. And then he went away. After him, I've not so much cared for the species. They shed, they claw, they spray (if they are boys), they go through heat (if they are girls), they are so stuck up! Cats are like the pop stars of the animal kingdom. All the pretension with none of the right.

Ants: I hate ants. When I lived with Nanny in Tennessee over the summer, we had a little trouble with ants in her kitchen. About half of the time, Stephen and I ate at his apartment, because he worked more than I did and I would go over there and make him lunch or dinner before or after he went to work. But when we did eat at Nanny's, we would find ants in the cabinet or in the bread box. It was icky. So she got ant spray and they went away easily, if the counter was kept clean, which it was because Nanny is a machine and amazing like that.

When Stephen and I moved into our apt in Waco after the wedding, one of the first things we dealt with were ants. And they have been plaguing us ever since. We've tried ant spray, we've tried moving our food, and our latest trick has been vinegar (they don't like the smell). But they just keep coming back. It is not only inconvenient, annoying, and costly - because they keep infesting new food-, but it is also gross. I feel like they are on me all the time. I hate ants.

I suppose I could go on, but I expect I'll get grief for these as it is. Especially for the first one. For some reason, few people share my distaste of members of the canine species. I don't get it.