How I Spent My Day, And I’m Not Even Kidding

It’s been one of those perfectly do-nothing uninspiring days. Unexciting and uninteresting to the point where I contemplated skipping this post-a-day nonsense to see if the world might come to a screeching halt.  But I’m into month FIVE of never missing a day, and apparently the habit is fairly well ingrained.

This post may cause drowsiness.  So if you’re driving, please pull over.  If you’re an insomniac desperate for sleep, you’re welcome.

What I did on my day off (in chronological order):

1.  Slept late.  The furnace kept coming on and all that heat makes me lethargic.  Somnolent.  I love that word.

2.  Got up and made coffee and had a shower and started some laundry.  Crap, I forgot all about finishing the laundry.  Because….

3.  Because, I had to drive to a hair appointment.  Why is it that something as simple as getting my hair cut makes me nervous?  I fret about what to wear and what to talk about and what in the name of all that’s holy they’re going to do to me today.  Even though I explained to the girl who chopped all my hair off the last time that I don’t like it THAT SHORT and I don’t mind the waves, she chopped it all off that short again and smoothed it down straight as a poker.  I believe in giving people a second chance, but when they asked me if I wanted to book my next cut in six weeks with her “in case your stylist is all booked up”  I said no.  This is the second time I phoned one day and got in the next.  It could just be wishful thinking on their part that she will be booked solid for six weeks in advance.  I could be bald in six weeks.  I feel that way already.  If I’m ever going back there, I will call and take my chances on seeing the same girl.  She’s very sweet, but man, does she love those scissors.

4.  Before driving home and before unplastering my hair from my skull I took a picture of myself on my I-Phone to prove to my friend Laura that I’m not making any of this up. Sorry I’m not sharing it with you.  I always look so completely pissed off in pictures.  I’m SURE I don’t look like that in real life.

Kevin Bacon.

Kevin Bacon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

5.  I made lunch, drank more coffee, played all my word games, discovered I’d received a lovely surprise comment on my blog from someone who shares some of my ancestors (and was actually willing to admit it).  What’s that six degrees of Kevin Bacon thing – proving it’s a small world?  Six degrees of separation.  Think about it.  Everyone in the world could be connected to me somehow.  Although why you would want to find out how is a total mindboggler.  Anyway just look at that face.  You could share ancestors with this man.  Or someone you know might be related to his hair stylist.  There are a lot of possibilities.  Some other day perhaps I’ll explore them all.

6.  I contemplated going for a walk, but it’s cold outside.  People are tossing about the S word.  I watched two movies on Netflix in my nice warm house instead.

7.  Made a salad, baked a potato in the microwave, put a frozen steak on the George Foreman Grill, poured a glass of red wine, and ate while reading more of “Odd Jobs” on my Kindle.  I know you should thaw steaks first, but that would involve planning ahead.  And I know you shouldn’t read while you eat, but nobody saw me.

8.  I had a nap.  That wasn’t pre-planned either.  All the stuff I’ve been doing all day must have been exhausting.  Or bored me into a comatose state.

9.  Then I realized I hadn’t yet done my blog-a-day-365-project-six-degree-crazy blogging from hell thing and so I got up off the couch and wandered off to sit down at the computer and here it is.  Such as it is.  I did warn you, if you remember.

10.  I’m going to finish the laundry now and watch another movie.  I’ve been kind of a waste of human space all day today, so why switch it up now?  I’ll get on with saving the world tomorrow.  I also have to do something with this hair.

200 Words, Real Fast

Bedtime story. THE DARING FROGGIE. Ready? Here we go.

Once upon a time on the border of a brook

A wicked little froggie who had never read a book —

(Yes I know it’s a poem, and that frogs can’t actually read. Poems are more concise. Concise means they get to the point faster. Okay, you’re right, it does mean short.)

Who had never read a story or a funny little rhyme,

Had a sad and tragic ending once upon a time.

(No of course I’m not trying to make you have nightmares! The froggie was wicked, remember? When wicked things have sad and tragic endings that’s a good thing isn’t it? And don’t you get tired of all those happily ever afters? I know I do.)

The little froggie, sad to say, was very fond of flies,

And thought on this unlucky day that he had found a prize.

(Please, do not feel sorry for the fly. For all we know he was wicked too. And the frog is only doing what frogs do. What, do you want him to just sit there on his lily pad and starve to death?)

“Up, up I go,” said Froggie; “I can climb as well as hop;

I only hope he stays right there until I reach the top.

(I don’t know why he didn’t just use his long tongue – perhaps he was out of range. Those things don’t reach clear across ponds as far as I know. But yes, it WOULD be cool if they did.)

“I wish this wouldn’t bend so much” said Froggie, going higher:

“I wish that flies would shut their eyes and come a little nigher.

But he is such a good one and he looks so very fine,

I think that I must have him, for it’s time for me to dine.”

(Well, if I told you at the beginning he was going to fall off a leaf it would have totally ruined all the excitement and suspense! Just listen – we’re almost done.)

So up he went, regardless of the danger he was in;

He saw a duck below him, but he didn’t care a pin’

But suddenly behind his back the reed began to crack,

And all he heard was just one word, and that one word was


(Why are you saying Eewwww? The duck was just doing what ducks do! No, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell your teacher a story about how a bad guy gets eaten by a duck. Although, yes, I agree that would make a more thrilling story. )

(No, I don’t want to tell you another one, our two minutes are up. Well, the two-minute rule – um, that would be the bedtime story sheriff who came up with that one, and we don’t want him showing up here to enforce that rule, do we?)

(No, not being able to read doesn’t make you wicked. It’s time to turn out the light, okay? Okay. Goodnight. I love you too.)

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