The following things are constant--daily there will be a sunrise and a sunset (except in the polar regions), decent people will always have to deal with a**holes, certain people will always have a lot of books, holiday dinner bought at a restaurant is never as good as mom's cooking (or grandma's cooking or whatever), certain men with a fear of commitment will never get married, if you have a dumba** boss he will never get any smarter, no matter how many times I go to the store I will always forget something, death and taxes, etc....
I have heard a rumor that a certain Mr. Friendly is getting married. The person who told me this did not have much in the way of details, like is he getting married to anyone I know? But supposedly he is getting married in a few months, after decades of everyone assuming he's a confirmed bachelor.
I wasn't assuming he was confirmed bachelor. He actually told me that he would never get married, that there was no point in getting married except to raise children, and he didn't want any children. And he dated someone I went to school with, and there's only so long that a girl can date someone who won't make that commitment, so she moved on. That was a long time ago, but I know that two years ago that was still his opinion. And now he's getting married?
I suppose that I should be happy for Mr. Friendly, but that isn't what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that isn't fair, that I did all the stuff that a person is supposed to do only to end up like this, and now people who've spent their whole lives doing something completely different have changed their minds and are now getting married. People my age and older who've spent decades in casual relationships don't deserve to get married. They should just wake up one day old and alone and figure out that they made a mistake.
Maybe that's what happened. Maybe he woke up alone one day and decided there was still time, and he got engaged to the next lady who smiled at him. So why couldn't he have done that when he was with my buddy from school?
For all I know, he got back together with my buddy from school. She got divorced like three years ago. I'd be very happy for her, except that I'd worry that he'd end up hurting her again.
The rest of the universal constants are still constant.
This weekend I was supposed to buy something. Really, I thought about buying something last weekend, but I forgot about it then, and I forgot about it all week, and I forgot about it again this weekend. So we should have bought something while we were out yesterday, and we still forgot. Yesterday we went to a grocery store, a dollar store, Home Depot, and another dollar store, and we forgot and didn't buy the thing. And that's not to mention that yesterday and earlier this weekend we were out at other stores that would not have had what we forgot to buy, but while we were out we could have gone somewhere else. How could we both be so forgetful?
Dumb bosses are still dumb. At my husband's company, in his area, they have now have now made everyone go to three meetings in the last six months. Nothing is really getting done at these meetings, and still no one is going to get any extra money for gas or anything else that would be of help to the employees, but the company has had a bunch of meetings to say dumb stuff like business is bad. And while they make dumb statements like how the company can't afford to pay extra for gas, even though gas is a travel expense and the company is supposed to pay for travel expenses, the company does somehow have plenty of money to send the managers around to different parts of the company to tell the employees that business is bad.
And my little place in the universe is still a place with too many books. I have always had a lot of books, but this is getting way out of hand. My eyesight just gets worse and worse, and I don't really enjoy reading as much as I used to, and I don't seem to have time for it like I used to. But I still seem to acquire more books and more books, even though I don't read as many as I used to. And I don't really like getting rid of the books I've already read. And except for maybe knitting books, there's really no excuse for buying more books. The knitting is still relatively new, so I haven't had time to get too many of those, but the rest of it doesn't need to be added to.
I'm trying to sort through these books and maybe box some of them up, and maybe even part with some of them. But mostly when I pick up a book I think, there it is, I've been wondering what happened to that book. Rarely do I think, I wonder what made me buy this? So the sorting is a slow process.
I have found that I have two copies of a certain Texas gardening book, two copies of a certain old book on home decoration, and three copies of the same book on soap making. I have endless books on practically the same subject, but there's no way that I need duplicates of the same exact book. And I'm sure that I'll find more duplicates when I start going through the novels. Anyway, I think that I can safely get rid of one Texas gardening book, one home decorating book, and two soap making books, but decided on the rest of them is a bit more difficult.
This week's schedule has been unusual, in that my husband had to work on Sunday but has today off. So Sunday I tried to make some serious progress on the books, knowing that I would probably not get back to it until maybe Wednesday. I had all these books stacked up on the bed and such.
I tripped over something and nearly fell. This in itself is annoying enough. I am now at the point where I fear that the next time I fall it will result in a serious injury, so whenever I think that I am about to fall I tense up so bad that it hurts just from that even if I don't actually fall. So I didn't actually fall that time, but I felt bad for a while afterwards, and I had to sit down for a minute. I noticed some of the books that I had stacked start to slide over.
I am in serious danger of being buried under a massive pile of books and being alone for hours before someone would find me.
Right. Back to work.
1 comment:
Books? It can't be as bad as the friend I visited a few times in far northern Michigan. He had the upper floor of an old house. I'm surprised that the upper floor did not make itself the new lower floor, or even the basement. It was that weighed down.
Everywhere in the house was columns and stacks of books and boxes of magazines and papers and letters. To the ceiling. It was hard to find a place to sit down or anything. The living room was trails weaving among the columns.
His main thing was fantasy and science fiction, and he had a lot of valuable first editions and signed books. In addition to this, he had odd things like a collection of J C Penney yearly Christmas catalogs. On the positive side, it was well cared for and probably organized so he could find things. He was also one of those guys who wrote lots of letters and received lots of letters, so I think there were massive files of correspondence there too (this was just before the e-mail era).
Some of the kitchen counter was cleared of books and boxes. I will give him that. And the refrigerator was free of books, or so I assume. The bathroom was totally clear of books and boxes: as I said, he took care of them, and likely did not want them toilet-overflowed or shower-steamed.
To go to bed at night, he would follow the trail through the stacks in the bedroom, reach the bed, and then remove the boxes from the top of the bed and fill in the trail he came in through. In the morning, he would get out of bed, and cover the bed again with boxes from the floor so he could leave the room.
I was thinking of doing a blog post about this guy, but here it is in a comment in someone else's blog instead.
However many books you have to worry with (and yes I have boxes and boxes of books too), just remember you aren't as bad as this guy was.
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