As I lay in bed at night, I have many stories running through my head.  They seem to be gone in the morning.

I’ve noticed people are not reacting as much to my blog.  I think there are complications with the site.  Maybe I should face the fact that they’re just not interested.  Plus the fact that WordPress has been difficult to navigate lately.  I’ll tell it to “publish” but it doesn’t.

I’m supposed to post something else and then tell WordPress what happens when I hit the “publish” button.

But enough of that.  I have tried to figure out what … whoops, my phone dinged, I forgot what I was going to say.

I would like to gather my writings and just publish them myself.  But every morning, I wake up and have 1000 things to do – clean shit out of the sink in the kitchen.  Unload or re-load the dishwasher.

Yesterday, they replaced the broken sink in the bathroom.  Martin, my new friend and handyman, showed up here with Effrin? at 7:30 to replace the sink.  After months of waiting, he didn’t call beforehand.  They never do.  Do you think it’s because we’re just a couple of old farts who never go anywhere?  That we’re home all the time?  Don’t answer that.

I was on the toilet with a serious task, not wearing a bra, of course, and a plan to relax for a bit. Maybe go back to bed?

I got up, answered the door while Teenie barked her ass off at my ankles.  There was his smiling face.  “Do you remember me?  Sent by Vincente?”  So that IS it.  He thinks we are senile.  How could I forget Martin, accent over the “i”.  

Of course! I remember you.  You’re the guy who shows up unannounced for any repair job, doesn’t speak much English, and leaves a mess.

I had Larry grab a grocery bag, and I just poured stuff into it off the counter.  God we have a lot of crap.

After they left, I had to put everything back, but I decided I should do a deep clean on the bathroom.  I picked up the rugs, swept, scrubbed around the toilet and the shower, etc.

Last night, just before bed, I opened up the top drawer to get my nightly necessities.  It was (and is) covered with a fine coating of white dust.  Arrgh.

I guess it was too good to be true that they cleaned up after themselves.  I DID see Effrin wipe down the door and cabinet under the sink – that I had emptied, by the way.  

Oh well, I guess I’ll clean that up today and then relax.

Did I mention the whole thing EXHAUSTED me?  It did.  It’s so f*&%#ing hot, which fact makes it even harder to clean.  And did I forget to mention?  I’m eighty-one.  If I don’t do a damned thing on any given day, I’m okay.  If I brush my teeth, it makes me tired.

And, oh yes, Mercury is in retrograde.  That explains why the framing on our bedroom closet fell off and hit my hand.  I suppose I’m grateful it didn’t hit my head.

Our automatic sprinklers are not working, our washer and dryer are on the brink, I can’t open any packages, and the refrigerator is making funny noises.  

I need a housekeeper.  I’d like to have David Beckham who said he can’t stand a mess in the kitchen before he goes to bed, so he stays up past anyone else in the house and brings everything back to order.  Or at least someone who is of the same mind as David Beckham.  

 I wonder what Brad Pitt is doing these days?

The End