nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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It sounds like the boys are whizzing in the basement

It's still 40 degrees as I type this and my basement is already gurgling for help. I've had the dehumidifier going (yeh, RIGHT!) and taken a shop vac down there about three times to suck up the deluge of water that's steadily trickling, like a small boy peeing at the roadside, from the wall. Tomorrow is going to be even more warm and I'm afraid I may have to take a row boat to get to my washer and dryer. Canoe, maybe. That might be an adventure.
When the kiddos and I got to Gramps' this afternoon, I found that he'd set fire to a burrito in the microwave. Not just overcooked---literally SET FIRE to the damn thing. We're talking fire alarm blaring, outpouring of smoke, scorched microwave innards--burnt. He said the microwave forgot to shut off. It doesn't have a stinkin' brain-how does it remember, let alone forget?? Needless to say, I spent the better part of my early afternoon scrubbing smoke stains off the kitchen wall, trying to clean the yellowish black soot out of the microwave, trying to get the smell of scorch out of everything in there. Ick. It was worse than cleaning out his oven.
Friday he goes to have his stitches removed and his wound checked to make sure everything's healing well. Keep your fingers crossed that they got all of that stupid Ganglian cyst.
Can't Eat and Can't Poop Lady (aka J's mom) called today and tried to recruit me into her latest project. She's writing to some of our more notable local criminals while they languish away in prison. So far she's written to Baby Beater (our neighbor who tossed the nine month old son of his 'Net gf across the room a few times), the guy from the Lounge who stabbed some man in the leg and severed an artery and almost killed him, and The Twit Who Burnt Up Her Twin Babies. And Can't Poop is very proud, says she's fulfilling her Christian duty by corresponding with these people. Perhaps I sound judgemental and really harsh when I say that it's not my duty to entertain them while they get free accomodations and food for hurting and committing crimes against innocent people. Not. My. Problem.
I realize they're still people, understand that they have families who love them and miss them. Let THEM write letters to them and keep them upbeat then.
End of rant.
I think she's biting off more than she can chew. She's going to end up getting more than she bargained for. My mother learned this while my stepfather was in prison. Being nice to career criminals isn't a good idea.
***
Friday I collect my final paycheck from my job that now isn't. I miss it. More than I even considered. God help me but I'm not cut out anymore for the job I'm doing now. Maybe it sounds uppity to say I've evolved beyond it but truth is truth. I'll find something else eventually. I hope eventually greases it's wheels a little.
Happy Wednesday, all.
G'nite.
N.

11:29 p.m. - 2004-12-29

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