The Ex-Files – Cleaning It Won’t Make It Work Better

Have you ever known someone who didn’t like it when you cleaned something? For some odd reason, CP couldn’t stand it when I cleaned certain things. It could be just about anything and I suppose it was probably all based on the mood he was in.

One time, I had some free time for cleaning because my Day Care kids were on Spring vacation with their families. I was sick and tired of looking at the pile of pennies on the top of CP’s dresser so I decided to put them in a big green vase that was sitting there empty serving no purpose. I dusted the dresser top and put his stupid little knick-knacks (a key, a carabiner, a rusty bolt, a button) back where they were. His brush and comb were put back in exactly the same spot they were, as well. But those blasted pennies – a huge mound of them – were in the big green vase. CP practically had a freakin’ meltdown. “What’s wrong with where they were?” he asked. “What’s wrong with them being in the vase?” I retorted. “I just don’t understand why it was necessary,” he complained. I said, “And I don’t understand what your aversion to things being clean is.” He didn’t speak to me for hours. He pouted and sat outside drinking beer like a big ol’ cry baby.

It was always something. He could have a problem with how I cleaned something or when I cleaned something. It could be the laundry or the kitchen floor. It could be just about anything! One of the things he used to say was, “Why clean it? It’s just going to get dirtied up again.” Really. I guess I should have never cleaned the toilet since it was just going to get dirtied up again. Dumb ass.

Another time, I decided to take the fans apart and clean the blades. He came home from wherever the hell he was before I had finished. You’d think I was doing something wrong by the way he acted. “What are you doing?” he asked. I said, “I’m cleaning the blades.” What I wanted to say was, “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I didn’t because that would have made it an even bigger issue. He asked, “Why are you cleaning the blades?” I said, “Because they’re dirty!” “Cleaning them isn’t going to make them work any better,” he insisted. I said, “Yes, they will. The weight of all the crud stuck on the blades has to have an effect on how well they work,” I explained. I was always having to explain myself to him. I went on, “And they look better if they’re clean!” He just grinned at me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “They aren’t going to work better, Deb.” I was pissed now because he was patronizing me. I asked him, “Do you have something against things being clean?” He started to speak but I was angry so I cut him off. “If you do then I won’t clean anything in this house ever again and if you don’t then I’d advise you to just let me do whatever the hell I want because it’s not hurting you one damn bit!” By then I had the last fan put back together and I left the room to put it back in the bedroom.

Too bad we didn’t have the internet and Google back then. I would have gladly looked it up and shown him that, according to Bob Vila, “the fan grill and blades can suck in and amass a fair amount of dirt and dust, making your fan work less efficiently. Regular cleaning of your oscillating fan with inexpensive supplies is the best way to keep microscopic intruders at bay and keep your fan operating in peak condition.” But isn’t it just common sense??

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Photo by Public Domain Pictures on Pexels.com

Spider Guts and A Special Delivery

It was Monday morning. I was limping along like an old lady who just got her ass kicked by a kangaroo. I headed out of my bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks. My biggest fear (ok, not biggest but one of them) was right before me, headed in my direction. Slowly (and I mean slowly because I’m old and crippled…and the kangaroo, remember?) I reached for my handy flyswatter. I took aim and gave that blasted spider a smack!

I must’ve smacked him just right (or wrong) because spider guts spattered me in the face! I’m so thankful I was wearing my glasses! Ewwww! All I could do is yell, “Oh, my Gawd! Oh my Gawd!” I also yelled, “That’s never EVER happened before!” Thankfully, I have a box of tissues handy and grabbed one. I start wiping off my left cheek, which took the spatter. How the hell does that even happen? I was standing up, granted I’m not very tall, but I’m still 5’2″ and waaaaay bigger than that freakin’ spider…and seriously it wasn’t even that big of a spider!! Dad comes through about then and says, “What the heck did you do?” I told him and he says, “What are the odds of that happening?” I respond, “I know, right?”

I was so grossed out by the spider guts, as anyone would be I think, that my mind kept coming back to the incident. Even after washing my face with soap and water, rinsing my hair and changing my clothes, I was still freaked out. Hours later, it was still popping up in my brain. Just stop, Deb. You washed your face. The gut-spitting spider is dead and gone. It will never happen again. That didn’t really help any…great Goddess please help me forget this horrible incident!!

I was soon to forget about the entire thing because just after lunch Dad went out for the mail and brought in a package addressed to me. It was from my good friend, TheHuntress915. She made my day and helped me to forget about spider guts! I was now focused on reading, Mexican hot chocolate, and trying on my new t-shirt, which was part of an effort to raise money for the victims of the mass shooting on Aug. 3, 2019.

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As I sat down to write something in my blog tonight, my mind was completely blank, as it has been for the past couple of weeks. But then I remembered my special delivery and those blasted spider guts! Now, I’ll go shower, put on my new shirt and sit down to read my book a little. I’d make some hot chocolate but the milk is sour! Ewww!

The Ex-Files – A Frugal Meal & No Cast-Iron Skillet!

I’ve always been good about stretching the dollar. When times got tough, I got tougher! (My kids grew up telling me I was cheap but I prefer the word frugal.) I knew how to get as many meals out of $40 as I possibly could, which is about all we seemed to have each payday when my kids were small. In fact, that $40 had to stretch for 2 weeks! Sometimes, after bills were paid, that’s all we had. Having 2 kids, I had to make sure I had food in the house even if it meant a bill didn’t get paid. That’s just how it was. I’m not going to make a $40 credit card payment (that belonged to CP) if we had no food. I had to feed my kids!

Food on my grocery list included milk and cereal, hot dogs, bread, peanut butter, ramen noodles, sliced cheese, chicken, and anything on sale. Back then our grocery store usually had chicken quarters for .29 cents a pound and they were packaged in 10-pound bags. That was a good deal! Sometimes they had beef on sale that couldn’t be passed up. I knew how to stretch a dollar so we could all eat!

One weekend, my Dad was coming down for a visit. He worked in San Fransisco at the time and he liked to come see his grandkids when he was off. He would be there about dinner time but all I had in the house was rice, 3 thin steaks, and frozen broccoli. I made a big bowl of seasoned rice, with thin-sliced steak strips and broccoli. It was the only way to stretch the steaks for 5 people. It was like stir-fry but not as good. There was more than enough for everyone, including CP, and he was a huge PIG.

We sat down to eat and all was going well until Dad reached for the bowl for seconds. CP had seconds, and the kids were still eating their first serving. CP watched my Dad serve himself another helping and CP got this look on his face which I recognized and knew all too well. He had something stuck up his ass and I couldn’t figure out what the hell it was! Then it dawned on me. Dad doesn’t care much for rice, so he was trying to get a little more meat and broccoli without too much more rice. I just knew in my gut that CP had a problem with this.

He was still in a pissy mood later so I asked him what the hell was wrong because I noticed his attitude change during dinner. Sure enough!  He said he didn’t like how my Dad was picking through the dish for meat and broccoli. He said, “Someone else might want more and he was picking all the meat out.” I explained to him how Dad doesn’t care much for rice. I also told him, “You already had seconds and you were done eating. You were just finishing your beer. You were DONE. I was DONE. The kids weren’t going to eat anymore. I DON’T SEE A FUCKING PROBLEM!” He changed his tune. He knew he was being an asshole, plain and simple.

What irritated me the most I think, was the fact that Dad always helped us with groceries when he came down and he helped with other things, too. Dad even brought the beer that CP was guzzling at dinner and afterward, so for him to have such an attitude just made me want to smack him with a cast-iron skillet. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t have one back then!

Throwback Thursday

I haven’t recognized Throwback Thursday in a long time so in addition to my recent post, My Empathic Heart Is In Pain I want to reshare what that post was really about. Some people didn’t get it. The post wasn’t about any one particular issue. It was about the negativity, hatefulness, and disrespect floating about like feathers weighing me down.

It was about MY HEART! 

Please refer to I Am An Empath to better understand. There are also links available at the bottom of that post for further information.

Thanks for reading!