Welcome to all of the kind folks who have journeyed here via the lovely Mrs. G. Welcome to the Heartbreak Hotel … where the meds are starting to kick in and I’m exploring better living through new electronics.
So, my brother Poochie came this weekend. He held me while I cried and cried. And then he announced that we were done crying. So we ate barbeque. And then we bought a TV.
Last week, when Alice was helping me develop a plan that was more than “sit on my couch and sob,” one of her tough-love action items was about my TV. Some friends gave it to me three years ago … they were going to put it on the curb, but I took it instead.
It buzzes. And the picture is really dark. And this beaute is hooked up to DishNetwork, which I think means I am truly white trash, not far from the shotgun shack with the satellite dish.
So Alice suggested I rearrange my living room furniture and buy a new TV already. I think maybe the TV was one of those things that I took for granted but maybe everyone who visited the house noticed. Hmm.
So, Poochie and I trekked to Best Buy and I bought one of them there flat screen tee vees. We rearranged the furniture, but left the old TV plugged in on the floor so that we could experience the joy of unranked Iowa beating #3 Penn State. There was celebration. And smart interior design.
There was also celebration for Foxie Doxie. I determined Thursday night that the young rapscallion had ingested … a pantyliner.
I suddenly had visions of having to tell either I Love You Forever Dr. Vet or his counterpart, More My Age and Totally Hot Vet that my dog was deathly ill because he ate a pantyliner.
Poop Watch 2008 commenced.
And then, there was celebration, because Foxie Doxie passed it like a champ. And even outside! And Poochie sang Kool ‘n’ The Gang’s “Celebration” in the middle of the street. And all was right with the world.
All in all, it’s been a pretty good weekend so far. I’m trying really hard not to be daunted by the eight hours of nothing to do before it’s time to go to bed. There was a time when I would kill for eight hours of nothing to do … now, I feel tasked with work, that work being Doing Something.
So maybe I’ll watch some TV. Or maybe I’ll go to Old Navy and buy some underwear since half the contents of my undie drawer are unwearable. Or maybe I’ll be a good neighbor and rake some of those leaves. Or maybe I’ll just keep surfing blogs.
Yeah, this is why the readers keep pouring in and keep coming back for more. The drama. Welcome.