She's away and this Dyke is lost. Well not completely but still, I need help.The bed doesn't get made every morning. So what, it's airing out.
I walk Ziggy in the AM. I've been able to change the walk time by 1/2 hour so instead of the 5FCKN30 walk it's now 6 and maybe I can stretch it out another 15 minutes. Yeah, more sleep time!
I hate doing the dishes and it seems like they multiply very quickly. I am a master at configuring the dishwasher, but don't like doing the non-DW items that have to go into the hot sudsy water. My belly ends up with a big water spot.
I sliced my finger cutting up an onion for the chili, right by the cuticle too and no one was here to put the spiderman band aide on it or kiss it.I have minor MI's (heartattacks) when I leave the remote on the couch and Ziggy is wandering about. I've lost track as to the number of opportunities the remote could have turned into jigsaw puzzle pieces. Been totally lucky on this one.
One morning there was a horrendous odor in the kitchen. No, not my cooking but it was related to the previous night's dinner. Tuna in the drain that I didn't get into the garbage. Took two days for that smell to leave unless I've gotten use to it.
Is it wrong to have Ziggy help clean the cat's litter box? Scooping out fudge nutties and solid pancakes of piss is not my idea of a pleasurable experience whereas Ziggy seems to enjoy the little treats.
Do you think my Dad would pitch in a little? Granted he's 89 but he doesn't have a problem getting around, especially to the refrigerator. The other day he made himself a cheese omelet and left the clean up for me. Thanks Dad and no, I didn't want one. One word for that - Men!
And now that I have the whole giant bed to myself to move about, I miss my other half. The one that completes me, makes me laugh, gives me loving when I need to be loved.
I need my football pal, the guacamole that she makes to perfection and the smile she gives me when she hands me a cold beer. Sunday isn't getting here fast enough for me.