Looking out from Sunday

I am torn between writing more everyday even if it makes Twitter seem insightful & only writing when I have something important and interesting to say. And being torn, I'm stuck in between. So I'm not writing everyday and when I do write, I make Twitter seem insightful. Oh well.

I'm not sure what insights I have right now, except something about having too many people in a house and rats becoming cannibals. I'm sure I've made it clear how much I love my sons. They are wonderful, and I hope they will take care of me when I am really really old, assuming I make it through this week. Unfortunately, right now I need to show some love to the boys by telling them to get their a$$es out of bed and doing something does not involve drinking beer on my carport all night long.

Times are tough and they need to be tougher. I am really tired of hearing them say they can't find a job, then list jobs they won't take. Although I agree they can't be pizza delivery guys because our insurance won't cover it, I don't see why they are too big for bag boys. I tell them they don't need a career but a J-O-B.

This is my problem only in so far as I have chosen to let them stay in my house and eat my food. And starting today, anyone who stays in my house and eats my food is going to do some serious work for it. That includes the damn cats. No not really. The cats are for decoration and to scare off my sister-in-law who murdered witches in her previous life and is therefore terrified of cats.

I made that up too. She isn't afraid of the cats. While we were in Washington and my son & daughter in love were here, she arrived unannounced, told the kids we had something of hers (cat crates on the carport --- two of which were ours) and went through my entire house, closets, bedrooms, and cupboards. She declared our house disgusting, which may be true, but who the hell is she to walk into our house like that? And if you are wondering why a woman who hates cats (I didn't make that up) is collecting cat crates, she has taken it upon herself to borrow crates and give them to people who she believes need to get their cats fixed. As noble as that might seem, be reminded that we didn't ask for her help. Ever. Frankly, this is going to put a damper of future family gatherings, since Bob and I can't think of anything nice to say so we are not speaking to her.

My daughter in love is in the hospital and we would appreciate any prayers, kind thoughts, and well wishes. The babies are babies. My son is trying to man-up, but I'm doing a Yoda here and saying, there is no try only do.

And so I sit with a minor migraine on Sunday morning, intermittently cleaning my disgusting house, writing my boring blogs, and checking on the price for small apartments in Santa Fe.

This week I intend to

• clean my disgusting house
• make life difficult for my lovely sons so that they will get J.O.B.s
• cleanse myself of anger toward my sister-in-law (suggestions welcome.)