It’s Monday, and I have a feeling it’s going to feel like Monday all day long. When mama slacks the whole house suffers. Cause you know there ain’t no one else ‘round here that’s gonna tend to anything! And slack I did this weekend. The hubby and I went into the ‘big city’ Saturday and did some running around, and yesterday…well, I was a tad bit hung-over. When am I gonna learn? I realized this morning I have laundry backed up, dishes unwashed, and a dusty film of ash (from this stupid, fireplace insert) covering everything. Whoever sells those things need to include a complimentary air-filter with the purchase. Yeah, it doesn’t take much for shit to pile up around here.
Man, do I ever hate the city! I can’t believe I spent 41 years there. The traffic and stores are so congested on the weekends. It’s miserable. I suppose it’s a necessary evil if I want to shop for anything or dine out. Heaven knows there isn’t squat available here. We used to have a Pamida, but that closed its doors for good. Now there’s just the Dollar General, and if they don’t have something you’re screwed till you can commute. It’s pretty much the same with eating out. We have a wonderful, little diner in town that serves fabulous, home-cooked food, but little else available, unless you want convenience store pizza or Blimpies. I’ve always said, and stand behind these words, “If it doesn’t have a Taco Bell to cater to the drunks at closing time, it ain’t a real town.” I quickly found around here that people don’t see the humor in that remark quite like I do. Ah, well…get a life!
I don’t know what was up, but it seemed everybody and anybody was out and about on Saturday. Kmart wasn’t too bad. I got in, found some undies, and back out in no time. The flea market also was a bit dead (though I credit that to our arriving in the afternoon), but traffic was murder, and Buffalo Wings was elbow to elbow. Wow! I had to have a couple of cocktails to sit through that mess of people and their offspring.
I realized something very important while shopping at the flea market that I have to make note of for future reference: My husband is never allowed to go there alone. No, I’m not kidding. It’s a good thing he has me to do the thinking for him or there’s no telling what he would bring home. First he spied a Gateway laptop that I had to pull him away from. Call me silly, but I don’t think purchasing a laptop from a flea market where you may never see these dealers of miscellaneous ware ever again is a wise choice. I might note that this is not like some swap meet in a nice, convention center. This is a ratty, old, flea market in a ratty, old building. Get my drift? Then he pulled me away from something I was mulling over buying—and damned if once he did I couldn’t remember what or where it was—and drug me to where there were a couple lamps, sure that these were the ones I would want. That was the whole purpose in the flea market. I wanted to look for vintage lamps to go in our bedroom. I looked at them, and then looked at him, puzzled. I honestly felt bad that I had to explain to him the reasons that I wasn’t as excited about them as he seemed to be. Bless his heart; sometimes when he finds something on his own that he thinks I’ll really like, he gets about as tickled as a kid flying his first kite. There is a huge difference between contemporary and vintage, and although the lamps themselves were nice, um.. “No”.
I did finally spot a set of vintage lamps that I thought were perfect, and let him do the bargaining—since I felt I stole some of his glory earlier. We purchased those, a tool he wanted, and two, burlap bags that I intend to use to make rag rugs. We did this and it only took us a couple of hours. This is a feat in itself, because I have a tendency to chat with absolutely everyone that I come in contact with, and we could be there till nightfall if he doesn’t stop me. I did get side-tracked a few times: Making small talk with an old, foreign woman who was talking to me about crocheting, spending forever going through the pile of burlap bags to find the perfect ones, and taking a jab at my husband when we passed a lady who was selling a dishwasher, by telling her that he wouldn’t buy me another one because the old one still works referring to myself! All in all though it was a good day, I left there with exactly what I was looking for, and got called spoiled on the way home.
Hot wings were a nice way to finish the evening out, but I should’ve refrained from the two, large, glasses of beer that I had. All it did was put me in the mood for cocktails, and when we stopped at the store on the way home, instead of beer I grabbed the largest bottle of wine I could find. Arbor Mist ‘Cranberry Twist’ just sounded delicious. That was mistake one. Mistake two was drinking all of it. Needless to say, I had a wine hang-over yesterday like nobody’s business, and wonder if maybe this time I’ll learn the lesson I should’ve before, that me and large quantities of wine just don’t mix. Nope. I am strictly a beer and Jack Daniels kinda woman.
Well, I suppose it’s time to post this, get off here, and get started with my day ((Groan)). Hope everybody has a fabulous Monday! If not, pick yourself up a bottle of wine on your way home. Ha..ha..