Life in progress

Tag Archives: humour


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A Day… I Mean Night in the Life

01:00 – The thirteen year old comes to my room to say he needs to be covered up again. I get up because he won’t leave me alone until I do, and the more he fusses, the more he wakes up.

02:01 – Cell phone rings. Squint at the number. Don’t recognize it. Decline call.

02:02 – Roll over to go back to sleep. Get cramp in left foot. Writhe until cramp goes away.

02:03 – Get comfortable again. Notice light in my eyes. Open them to be blinded by rays of moonlight like laser beams coming through window. Roll over.

02:04 – Am awake, wondering if the phone call was from eldest son, lost, alone on the side of the highway, with a phone he plucked from the cold dead body of the guy he’d just seen run over. (Okay, the body wouldn’t be cold yet, but you get the picture.)

02:25 – Thinks about getting up to write this post.

02:30-02:54 – Drifts back off to sleep.

02:55 – Cell phone rings. Answers it. Loud talking in the background and then a voice says, “Wrong number,” and hangs up.

02:56 – Cell phone rings again. Answers it. Person hangs up.

02:57 – Cell phone rings … again. Answers it. Lots of noise: voice says, “Still wrong number.” Well DUH!! Am clearly dealing with a rocket scientist.

02:57 – Cell phone rings. Picks up and listens. Voice says, “I think the number’s 0215…” Resists temptation to say, “YES! Try that!” They hang up.

03:00 – (While failing to get back to sleep.) Imagines how it might be possible to replicate fax machine noise for next phone call.

03:27 – Considers getting up to write post which will include phone number of non-rocket scientist so that people all over the world can phone said doo-doo at 2 and 3 every morning for the next week.

03:41 – Tries to figure out how to say 999,999 in Japanese.

03:50 (or so) – Drifts off to sleep.

06:25 – Thirteen year old wakes me up to let me know he’s going downstairs and that he’s going to let me sleep for another half an hour. Goes downstairs and proceeds to scream at TV for half an hour.

06:55 – Phone rings … cousin in England has forgotten yet again how many hours difference there are…

It’s going to be a long two weeks until I’m able to sleep again.

 


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One-Liner Wednesday – …If It Wasn’t Screwed On

My mother, talking to me on her cellphone: I’ll make sure I keep my phone with me tomorrow, in case you call – I just have to find where I put the bloody thing now.


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Everybody’s Different

Diversity is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Well, not always.

If you’re at all sociable: whether you go out of the house, or stay in and spend your days on the internet, you’re bound to meet someone who gets on your nerves. I remember when my ex and I started dating. Everything was flowers and wine and laughter… and then I found out he was a morning person. I, on the other hand, am not one for more than a grunt if you’re lucky before my first coffee, so the singing coming from the direction of the shower was enough to set my teeth on edge.

While that wasn’t actually painful, I do now at times feel physical discomfort when I come across someone whose nature is completely different to mine. Take, for instance, people who live in a constant state of drama. I have enough real life problems to even consider worrying about who has pissed off whom and how they’re going to badmouth them until everyone else hates them. And it happens everywhere! Social media, high schools, offices and even old-age homes.

What I don’t understand is, why do people do this to themselves? Why can’t people just live and let live? So what if so-and-so is pissing you off? Ignore them. Don’t let them pull you into their world of misery. I certainly didn’t let my ex get the best of me with his early morning glee, and since he was still serenading the shower head when we broke up, I sure didn’t do anything to stifle him. Then again, maybe by that time he was doing it just to get on my nerves.

I know I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again: life is too short. I think if we can all accept that not everyone is the same as us, that we all have our quirks, our opinions, and our preferences in life, we could all be so much happier.

Stop trying to change people. Embrace their differences. Just not necessarily in the shower.


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Will We Become Like An Old Married Couple, WordPress?

In attempting to come up with something new to write here today, I realized there doesn’t seem to be much left of my present life that I haven’t already written about. In short, I’m running out of things to say.

I have this vision in my head of me and you sitting in a restaurant, eating a meal and looking around at the other couples – the young ones holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes, *gag* and the middle aged ones with kids, arguing over whether Bobby should get a new computer for his fourth birthday – and having nothing to say to one another. We’ve already talked about the weather and how bad the traffic was to get here.

Your teeth hitting the spoon every time you sip your soup is getting on my nerves.

Your memories of how sexy I was when we first met are fading even as the colour in your favourite cardigan does every time I wash it – it’s a horrible burnt orange and I’ve been secretly putting a drop of bleach in the water for about six months. I figure if it finally goes yellow you’ll stop wearing it.

Is that how things are going to end up with us, WordPress? Is it?

Come on, my dear. Let’s spice that plate of bits and bytes up, shall we? Before I have to face your dentures in a pot beside the sink in the bathroom every night.

 


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One-Liner Wednesday – He’s At It Again

My best friend, John, after I told him my son Chris has been washing dishes to earn money: So that’s why there are clean dishes in your cupboards!


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Y is for … Yodeling and Other Strange Noises

I can pull off 50,000 words with no problem. Yeah, okay – it takes me a while. But out of those 50,000 or 5,000 or even … whatever … the words that I get the most stuck on are those pesky noises that come out of our mouths and noses that there are no words for. In fact, it makes steam whistle out of my ears.

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

Some noises are much easier than others, admittedly. Onomatopoeia is a wonderful thing for sounds like banging, clanking and sneezing. The list goes on and on. But what about coughing? “Khe, khe, khe!” How about a sound of derision? “Pff!” Yeah, that’s easy. So many of them are so hard though!

I was quite proud of myself when I came up with the sound for blowing a raspberry. But then people didn’t understand what I was trying to say.

So I’m making it official. And feel free to use it any time. This, “Pthththththth” denotes blowing a raspberry.

As for yodeling? Pthththth. I’m not even going to try.

 

Will Jupiter say yes? If you haven’t read all the chapters, you should before you read this one: http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/2014/04/29/y-is-for-youre-going-to-leave-me-dangling/


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How Many Bugs in a Box – Stream of Consciousness Saturday (Question)

“How many bugs in a box?” It’s a stupid little song that has been going through my head for years. When I’ve finished writing this post (because I don’t want to stop) I’ll look it up and if I can, insert it so that everyone can be tormented by it.

It’s from an animated game for the computer that my kids used to play when they were little. The game was called “How Many Bugs in a Box” and it was a counting/math/number/pattern recognition game. Why am I writing about this? Because every time – and I mean EVERY SINGLE TIME – I try to write a blog post I think of that sentence. The question has been plaguing me now for around fifteen years. Fifteen years of wondering how many bugs are in the damned box!

Why is it that songs get stuck in our heads, anyway? There’s a name for it now: ear worm. Usually it lasts a morning, or a few hours after we either think of a song or hear it after not having heard it for a long time. It doesn’t usually happen – at least in my experience – when it’s something that’s on the radio or my playlist all the time. I think my worst ones to date have to be “C is for Cookie” by the Cookie Monster, or “The Song that Never Ends” by whatshername with the lamb puppet. (Holy crap, “whatshername” didn’t get a red squiggly line underneath it!)

Anyway, by finally writing “how many bugs in a box” in a blog post, I’m hoping to dispell the magic that keeps me wanting to come back to it. I’ll let you know if it worked in another post. Maybe in next week’s SoCS post.

(Phew! Got my Stream of Consciousness Saturday post in just in the nick of time!)


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It’s Been a Day … And a Half

My day started with a nightmare and a strange noise at 1:30am. The dream terrified me, the noise that I woke up to paralysed me for about five minutes. It sounded similar to my tormentor, Giggling Bob, only closer: Giggling Bob is in a box on the opposite side of the house to my bedroom. Other than not being quite the same noise, it wasn’t Bob’s usual time of 3:14. The conclusion can only be that Bob has invited a friend into the house.

So after five terror-stricken minutes, I picked up my cell phone and called my best friend John, who luckily is working nights this weekend. I wouldn’t have called him otherwise, knowing how precious sleep is. Being the nice guy he is, he talked me down from my panic to the level where I was able to put on pants and get up to check that all the doors were locked. They weren’t – the garage door was open. But after a quick trip around the house to make sure the kids and I were alone (with John still on the line) I went back to bed and, after a full hour of being on the phone, went back to sleep.

To properly explain the next part of my story, I must back up a bit. Last week I scratched the roof of my mouth. It’s been so resistant to healing, and so painful, that I decided to fast today to give it a break. Knowing that the kids would be going with their dad tonight, I wasn’t worried about being hungry well into the evening – I could go to bed early. I’m exhausted anyway from my adventure of the wee hours of the morning. Two proverbial birds with one stone and all that.

Can you hear the scratching of a record needle? Of course you can. My ex texted me to say he wasn’t coming.

In the meantime, I had a doctor’s appointment for my shoulder (which has been hurting since January) so I thought, why not ask him to take his handy-dandy light thingie and shine it in my mouth to see what’s wrong in there. One prescription later, I’m now the proud owner of something I didn’t know existed – steroid-laced dental paste.

Dry your palette with a paper towel, the pharmacist said, (eww) and then put the paste on your thumb and spread it on the roof of your mouth. But don’t try to rub it in. It has to stay there. Just a layer of paste for at least half an hour. And don’t lick it.

….

Do you have any idea what happens to your mouth when you can’t allow your tongue to touch the roof, and you’re thinking about it? You drool. Try to swallow without touching your tongue to your palette. Go ahead. Do it now.

See what I mean? Now sit like that for half an hour.

Now it’s 10:40pm on the same day I woke up terrified. I’m exhausted, waiting for Alex’s feeding pump to finish doing its thing, I’m starving, I’m drooling, and I still haven’t figured out if I have yet another possessed toy in the house to terrorize me in the middle of the night.

If I do find the toy though… it’s going home in my ex’s trunk the next time he picks up the kids. WITH Giggling Bob.


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I Found My Willy! (and other randomness)

If you’ve been following me for a while you might remember this post: https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/02/27/whereswilly-com-the-20-blog-post/ It’s about a $20 bill I received and signed up online, before I spent him, to see where he goes. Yesterday he resurfaced!

I got an email last night to let me know my Willy is still in good condition and is about 7-8 hours away, north of Sudbury, Ontario. He came out of an ATM! I was afraid that since he was old (2004) he might have been taken out of circulation by the bank, especially since we now have plastic money here in Canada. But it turns out my Willy is still making his rounds.

Also, this morning, I was greeted with an email to say that a user of Goodreads with the handle “Coffee Talk” wanted to be added as my friend.

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I accepted, of course. Although I’m surprised – coffee has been my friend for years already.

What’s your randomness for today?


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Somebunny Has A Sense of Humour

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Alex brought a fresh eggplant home for Easter.