“…if it hadn’t been/
for Cotton Eyed Joe/
i’d have been married/
a long time ago/
where did you come from/
where did you go/
where did you come from/
Cotton Eyed Joe…”

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Contractors almost finished — they just have a railing to put up on the porch and are done.

Have been researching fibroids, ie — calling all my Wacky Girlfriends and saying “WTF?” and looking at scary pictures on the Internet.

Sometimes fibroids get as big as potatoes, sometimes as big as melons. Sometimes you have to have your uterus removed, along with Alien Growth, sometimes you stop growing them when you hit menopause, sometimes they just stay small and “hang out in there,” as one Wacky Girlfriend put it. Yeesh.

I need to go bake cookies now. Too depressed about this. Here’s a recipe:

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Scaffolding — gone.

Big drop box on street that has been vexing garbagemen and neighbors — gone.

Honey Bucket — still here.

Front steps — almost finished.

Contractor — no sign of him.

i swear, i cannot even freaking focus and thus will be unable to blog until the contractors leave. The only comfort I have is the photo gallery of Beauty Queen Rockstarmommy and her adorable tattooed family. Sigh. What a cool girl. I cannot post pictures of my own adorable family as I cannot figure out how to work my digital camera. Ha! You think I jest! I do not.

Rockstarmommy looks quite a bit like the Old Carly on “General Hospital” who just honestly is one of the prettiest girls in the universe, IMHO. (No, I don’t mean New Drag Queen Female Impersonator Carly, having a nervous breakdown and kinda freaking me out, and not Old Old Carly — Tamara Braun I mean. Oh, Tamara Braun, why did you blow GH?)

Yes, they’re still here, the contractors, along with the Honey Bucket they rode in on. They love it here. Well, we’re down to two of ’em now. (Contractors, not Honey Buckets.) There is only one here, most days. My kids, per usual, refuse to listen to me, but they’ll listen to the contractors. How pathetic is that?

“Get away from that window now. You’ll break it. Move back. Good job, little guy!” No I am not kidding. (Single-paned glass, adventuresome three-year-old.)

Also, I’m so confused that I cannot FUCKING REMEMBER WHERE I PARKED MY CAR. Ever. And the contractors have to point me in the right direction, for example…

“It’s in the driveway.”

Today I locked myself out of the house, and he tells me, “No, I left the side door open, you’re good!” But I was not good, cuz I’d locked it up after him. Also, the mailman has developed a bit of jealousy, as he saw me bringing the contractors lemonade one day and, “You never bring me lemonade! Not even when it’s hot as hell out here!”

Like, one husband wasn’t enough trouble for me? Now I’ve got, what, four or five? Between the mailman, Hockey God and assorted contractors?

Off to watch “Lost” in bed and fantasize about Sawyer… Would my kids listen to him? Yeah, probably. But I need not worry about that — we’d be on our own Fantasy Island, sans husband(s), sans kids, sans large neurotic dog who eats everything on the counter, including cubes of butter, every time I turn my back.

Ta-ta for now,

WM

Oh. My. God. Amy and Jason just had the cutest most adorable sweetest brand new lil baby, Noah. Look at her blog and be amazed…

(it’s linked on the side, there. No, there… See it?)

xxox to them.

WM

ps okay this is funny — Wacky Boy was begging for new batteries for one of his eighteen flashlights. I swear to God, if one more person gives him a flashlight as a gift (??? is this a trend???) I will have an episode. I replaced ’em, came out of the kitchen waving it and asking, “Who’s the best mommy?” Both kids look up, confused, and ask, “Who?”

This one isn’t for the faint of heart, either. You know what I’ve found out about rumors? They’re usually true. Not always, but in general. Especially when they’re from a credible source, as this entry is. Keep prayers, good thoughts, and money flowing South.

C sent me this note on 9/26 — sorry I’m just now posting it.

WM

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It’s not cancer. And the contractors are still here. And it’s started to rain, and the front end of our house is exposed to the elements and how are they supposed to paint the rest of the house, when it’s raining? WTF??? And…This post is not for the weak of heart.

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“It is a human characteristic to love little animals, especially if they’re attractive in some way.”
— McCoy, “The Trouble with Tribbles”, stardate 4525.6

“When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”
— Ignatius Reilly “Confederacy of Dunces”

Is the Honey Bucket still here? Yes. Is our neighbor down the street, who actually knows how to do his own remodeling, jealous? Yes. For the love of God, he has saved himself and his lovely wife tens of thousands of dollars by working on his own place and not hiring contractors — it looks great, their house, total showcase now — and he loves the damn Honey Bucket.

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