Counter Attack

Yesterday was planned as one of those rare, lazy days. We did all the errands required for the weekend and upcoming week on Saturday, said screw it to cleaning the house all weekend, and plopped our asses down on the sofa for the entire day.

Last year I started binging Fringe on Netflix and finally wrapped up about a month ago.

As a Lostie I was very invested in checking out another J. J. Abrams show. I’m a person who likes a good concept show based loosely on a twisted conspiracy theory. Fringe perfectly fit the bill.

And as soon as it was done I wanted to start it over again, catch what I might have missed the first time around. Knowing Matt likes similar stuff he started watching with me and was hooked right away.

So all day yesterday we sat on our lazy asses and binged I have no idea how many episodes of the show.

The stuff we were supposed to adult – dishes in the sink, a bag full of recyclables, the calcium crust building up on our bathroom faucet – all sat in wait.

That was, until just before dinner time.

I went to pee and when I got to the living room all I heard was:

“Ergh, spring has sprung.”

I responded by asking Matt if he was having a sneezing fit then rounded the corner into the kitchen. I was supposed to cook some veggies. The plan was finish dinner then get lazy again.

People often ask me how I can keep going and going like that silly Energizer bunny. How can I get up at 7:00 most days, work from 7-5:00 PM, stay awake until close to midnight and then get up to do it all again the next day.

How can I maintain that much energy? I only drink 1 cup of coffee in the morning. It isn’t drugs. I just have one of those personalities where I need to be doing something functional and useful all the time.

But nobody can keep that up forever either. So there are weekends where I try for a day like yesterday was supposed to be. A day I can just sit on my ass and pretend I’m the me I was once upon a time. The procrastinating, indolent teenager.

So when I rounded the corner to see Matt standing in front of the sink holding our vinegar spray bottle in one hand and a paper towel in the other I knew what was going on before I even heard him say:

“No. Ants.”

Motherfucker.

I really thought (Hoped? Prayed?) we’d taken care of that problem last year. But apparently being Irish means Murphy will come and point while laughing at you for thinking you might get an entire day off to just chill.

An hour later Matt was done with pork chops and our veggies. The ones I was supposed to cook but didn’t have time to do. Instead, I spent all that time vinegar-dousing our countertops, unloading and reloading the dishwasher, scrubbing every inch of the sink (right down to the drain catcher thingie), stove and floor all around the countertops.

We went to the back of the house, I swept out all the leaves and a healthy number of ants that appeared up near the foundation of the house. I then looked up natural ways to get rid of ants while Matt sprayed some chemical nightmare along the foundation.

Disclaimer: I’m usually pretty green and want as humane and natural a solution as possible. Last year we tried vinegar, cornmeal, a host of other kitchen-based products and I think they all just encouraged the assholes to come at us even harder.

Well, I don’t go walking around their house outside so they shouldn’t be anywhere inside mine. Trust me, it isn’t my first choice to use that awful stuff but we’re going to kill them one way or another, don’t have kids or pets and nothing edible is planted anywhere near where the ants trail. So chemical-bomb them we did.

After cleaning inside and outside and spraying that crap I suddenly had a thought:

“Ants are exoskeleton, right?

“Yeah, I think so.”

Thought it may not be any more natural than a chemical compound, I have a box of Borax hanging around. I use it to make laundry detergent. Controversy aside the stuff came from the planet so I am pro-Borax.

And that shit to an exoskeleton is like a human walking through a wood chipper.

I know this from our former experience many, many years ago with fleas infiltrating our house in Springfield. Borax sliced and diced those little monsters to death. Like a pile of tiny powdered Ninjas.

Apparently mixing it with powdered sugar and placing it near the entry point for the ants will have them gobbling it up. Then they bring it back to their home and it kills the colony.

You think you can outsmart me, ants? Yeah, think again.

You stole hours of my lazy Sunday. Forced me to work on my day off.

Me and my box of Borax will eradicate you into oblivion. Bitch, it is so on.

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Never gonna say Goodbye

Day seven. Already? That’s so crazy. It feels like just yesterday it was day six!

Honestly though, I actually enjoyed taking part in this challenge for many reasons.

• I was essentially forced to write something every day.
• Writing creative non-fiction every day helped me to work on fiction.
• Music always inspires me.
• I’m glad I never tried to be a songwriter, I need way more words to convey my message.
• I started to understand which writing I enjoyed doing and which I want to let go.
• The battery in my laptop doesn’t last very long at all.
• Living room is better for writing blogs but the office cuts more distraction for fiction.
• I looked at everything with a different eye: one on telling and publishing the story.
• First thing in the morning is when my ideas are freshest.
• I sneeze a lot in the morning.
• Food is important but sometimes less so than getting the perfect words down.
• After the refinance check was deposited I pretended it was a royalty check.
• Now I’m just talking about random shit that has nothing to do with anything.

Ending a challenge like this is always a little weird. Mostly because I never really know how to “end” something like this. Especially because of the third thing in that list up there. And like I already told you on day 1, I wake up with a song in my head almost every day. So to me it seems weird that I’d abruptly stop writing like this. Because it still seems to hold value.

Then again, I’ve been known to stay too late at the party once or twice in my life and certainly don’t want to do that this time around. Which got me thinking about endings.

There are so many songs about the finality of something. Here are some better known tracks documenting a few different types of endings:

♪ Last Dance (Donna Summer)
♪ The End of the Innocence (Don Henley)
♪ It’s the end of the World as we know It (and I feel Fine) (REM)
♪ In the End (Linkin Park)
♪ Goodbye to You (Scandal)
♪ End of the Road (Boyz II Men)
♪ The Party’s Over (Nat King Cole)
♪ Wild World (Cat Stevens)
♪ Closing Time (Semisonic)
♪ I Heard it through the Grapevine (Marvin Gaye)
♪ Fade to Black (Metallica)
♪ My Happy Ending (Avril Lavigne)
♪ When the World Ends (Dave Matthews Band)
♪ Boys of Summer (Don Henley)
♪ The End (The Doors)

In fact I anticipated that last one on the list being today’s post inspiration. Yes, I planned to use a song by The Doors as my last hurrah.

There was no real reason for that other than a brief inspiration I had last night before going to bed. Scrawled a note on a scrap of paper, stuck it under my mouse and everything. It would be ready for today as soon as I woke up and started clicking keys.

My intention? Write a whole post about the lizards coming back onto our patio already. Temperatures being warm enough for their return.

Equating that to the Lizard King.

Doors tie-in.

Boom!

But now that I’ve looked up the lyrics I kind of realize that shit is creepy. Not that “creepy” never makes an appearance here but for my last day’s challenge I’d rather leave things on a high note.

Plus I hate goodbyes.

So in the spirit of that I leave you all with the determined anthem of everyone who ever wanted to pretend the end wasn’t real. And I know if there’s anything I can do about it, I Won’t Give Up on this daily writing.

To be fair, it may not happen every day but I’m sure as hell going to give it the old college try.

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Phoning it in

Short and sweet is what I’m planning to do today.

For a couple reasons.

First, I got to bed really late last night, like 1:00 AM kind of late. A full three hours past my standard bedtime. And still two past my Friday night bedtime. Second, because even though I’m exhausted and kind of cranky pants this morning there’s commerce to visit.

Because, our coffee maker died. Do I even have to say the hell no that should accompany that phrase? Matt has been heating water in the microwave and pouring it directly over the grounds to brew our coffee the last two days.

And while I love him for helping me keep the inner monster at bay (READ: what I do before 10 AM while under-caffeinated would be a solid defense strategy), he can’t keep doing that.

It’s a pain in the ass for one, and also, the coffee is really weak.

The reason I long for stronger java this morning is because we went over to Phoenix International Raceway last night to spend time with Matt’s parental type folks. As NASCAR fans they come out from California twice a year and immerse themselves into the little city that the parking lot next to the track becomes.

With the grandstand holding about 67,000 people, seated, and thousands of people just camping to watch the race on television while day drinking and embracing general debauchery, things can understandably get a little wild.

Last night we spent about five hours hanging out and in that time I personally took part in, or at least witnessed:

• Too many trips to a port-a-potty.
• Hearing a story about a kid swimming inside the toilet of a port-a-potty and coming out looking like a Smurf.
• Both male and female boob grabs.
• Outdoor carne asada fajita consumption.
• Being in the “way back” of a golf cart and realizing that the girl driving the one behind us was too young to understand what I was doing when I made the internationally known symbol for “honk the horn, trucker!”
• Holding on for dear life while the golf carts raced each other out to the Busch Gardens stage and bar.
• A local musician, Harry Luge, with a pretty rockin’ band and a fun rock-country vibe.
• A guy dressed in overalls and a cowboy hat with a sheriff badge attached and matching silver, star shaped nipple covers (because, you know, some guys are modest).
• Leaving about 15 minutes too late as we walked back to the car in a wind-driven dust storm.

Between weak coffee, lack of sleep, and a sea of cowboy hats, I don’t have anything in my head right now (other than wanting to wake Matt up so we can get this show on the road, divide and conquer, and finish our shopping so we can get home and spend the rest of the weekend binging Fringe).

I’ll just leave you with the last song I remember hearing on the radio outside the RV last night while we talked and ate, Hello.

 

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.