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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.



The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My photo
My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Saturday, September 7, 2024

Unrealized Sojourn to the Closets

Straight off the bat I can't figure out how to add the meme. So I'll tell you what it says:


"I don't know who needs to hear this, but you still have clothes in the dryer."


That meme, by The Crockpot Ladies, made me snort and spit-take my DDP. It is Soooo me. 


I'm a tad behind...this week (right, it's just this week)😉😉😉...the clothes are in the dryer, on top of the dryer, and beside the foot of the dryer, and the rolling clothes rack is filled with hangables.  


None of the clothes have yet to make the journey to the closets.  


Adding to that clothes-army, a new load is amassing in the washer even as I type this.  


However, the partial filling of the washer is part of The Plan. 


You see, I only "sort" when I wash new reds or jeans the first time. 


Otherwise, everything goes in the washer at the same time, along with man's greatest invention of all time...a color catcher...or two.  


As I remove pjs or nighties in the am--into the washer they are tossed. After I've soiled bathroom or kitchen linen throughout the day, they initially make it to the side of the washer. 


The casual observer, or those with snarky attitudes,  might liken the damp edge-clingers to an acrophobiac--frozen on the ledge, but determinedly on the verge of conquering their fear.   However, the damp linens are actually there for a reason:  The washer lid stays open until the dampness has dried to touch.  Only then  are  they allowed to take the plunge. 


Okay, so what really happens:  When they are dry, I toss 'em in the washer. 😏


Laundry Room Tough Love.   


It's my way to preload the washer, and still be able to thwart the unwanted appearance of mold.


The washer pre-filling continues as I disrobe after running post-work errands. 


I "joke" with friends and tell them, "Every thing  comes off when I hit the laundry room door."  


However, in reality it's not a joke.  It's  true.  


Unexpected visitors will almost always find me in my nightie. I only "dress up"at home (e.g. throw on a caftan, housecoat, or loungewear), when I'm hosting a party.  


The neighbors pretty much expect to see me in my robe if I'm taking the trash to the curb, picking up forgotten mail, or tracking an escaped pup--or two.  


Or a wayward cat. 


The only reason I was in regular clothes the last two dinners I hosted? 


I had to run to the store for a last minute purchase, and guests arrived early--before I finished preparing, and had a chance to change into something more comfortable. 


The early arrivals put me in a foul mood.  


I had the holiday off so I invited my guests earlier than I normally can be home. They know I'm time challenged to begin with, so when they arrived 10 minutes early it threw me into a tizzy. 


I tried to be gracious.  


I reminded myself they were brought up to believe 10 min early is "on time." 


However,  I failed. 


Miserably.


My philosophy is:  Start on time.  End on time.  


And at work:  Only hold meetings when there is a purpose.  


If someone arrives to the appointment, party, or meeting late--it's their loss. Their consequence. 


I accept my consequences when I miss out due to an untimely arrival.  At work it really hurts when I have to use precious annual leave--especially since I already give them so much free time at the end of the day by not claiming overtime, or leave later than I'm supposed to because I continue to work 15-30 minutes into my sick leave--that one really hurts because I am paying (using my sick leave  while continuing to work--but limit setting and self-tough love works and I'm getting better.


Although I've made significant strides, I'm way too distractible and I easily lose track of time. 


Distractibility is the reason (sure it is 😉) this week's laundry hasn't made the trip to the closets. 


Yet. 


That's my story and I'm sticking to it. 

😏

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