crowbelle's Diaryland Diary

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Too Much Fun for Words

Just Too Much Fun for Words

So, I guess I probably should jot down a few words � if only as a place-holder here.

Words have escaped me of late, and work has been all time-consuming and at the forefront of my to-do list.

Sorry about that.

I suppose that is one good thing about a personal journal, though. You don�t have to hand it in on time, if you don�t want to. Of if you can�t. Or if your dog ate it�

No rules, no deadlines. It�s nice but not nice.

Nice for me, since I�m wordless lately.

Not nice for you � just because.

Anyway, this is a journal entry about nothing. A �Seinfeld� kind of journal entry, I suppose.

It�s been so long since I last wrote anything, I don�t remember what�s happened in the meantime. I don�t keep a written diary, so I can�t consult that. My own memory has been feeling the effects of aging lately, too. Both Paul and I are losing it, I think. Between the two of us, we just about manage to keep this house afloat, but just barely some days.

I used to assume most of the household chores back in the day but, over the years, Paul has started to pick up some of the slack when I've needed help. Now it seems that our routine is that every Sunday morning, before I even think about opening my eyes for the day (and I don�t sleep late, either � I get up around 6 or 7, 7:30 at the latest if work is not pressing!) he has the laundry going in the basement and usually has one load already washed and dried, with the second load washed and ready for me to pop into the dryer. Today we had a third load, and I have finished up all of what he started and folded it and put it all away. It�s the least I can do since he lugs it down there and gets it going before the birds are even up.

Also, in the cooking department, I do the cooking for one meal out of three per day for us. The other two meals are done by each of us respectively, in our own time. I don�t really eat an early breakfast. I have a cup of herbal tea when I first come downstairs, usually around 6 or 6:30. I get online and check my emails, say hi to my best bud, Sandy, and answer any other emails that need answering, erase all the spams, and close up shop down there on my webtv. I then come back up to work on my daily typing and do that for about 2 or 3 hours when it's time for a break around 9 or 10. A lot of times, I�ll make an omelet with bacon, or I�ll slice up a yummy mango and have that with maybe some vanilla yogurt. I�ll sometimes eat that in front of the TV or, if I�ve got a lot of typing ahead of me for the day, I�ll bring it back upstairs and eat as I work, being especially careful not to spill anything, of course. Then it's straight typing for the next several hours.

I sometimes don�t do lunch, especially if I�ve had a big late breakfast.

Then dinner rolls around between 5 and 6 and that is always a whole well-balance dinner for Paul, with me eating the protein and veg but not the starches. I�m never in the mood for cooking dinner either. But I must. The deal is that I cook, and he cleans up.
I must say, I like that part. I don't like cleaning up at all, and now it's only up to me to make a big mess, serve up supper, and let him do all the cleanup - yep, I do like that part.

Now Paul, on the other hand, makes his own breakfast and makes his own lunch every single day. He has Cheerios in a big bowl (that we got in England at the Aysgarth Pottery shop in the Yorkshire Dales) with milk, fruit and granola on top. He also has a piece of toast with jelly on it, and a glass of orange juice. I explode just thinking about all that food early in the morning! And he�s as thin as a toothpick too!

He makes his own lunch, always, always, ALWAYS peanut butter and jelly/jam on really yummy 10 grain bread that we make in the bread machine. He has a piece of whatever fruit I�ve bought that week, and a big drink of some kind, either water or lemonade in the summer. He bundles all of that lot into his Igloo lunch bucket and off he goes to the ocean for a day of hard manual labor pulling lobster traps. That�s why he�s thin�he works very hard all day and works off his calories.

Me? I sit in a chair, moving my fingers at somewhat less than lightning speed over the keyboard all day long� doesn�t burn too many calories, alas!

Oh gosh, I�ve just remembered. I�m cooking a pot roast (my new favourite dish), (recipe here) tonight and I cook it for 3 hours or more, so since it�s 4 p.m. now as I am composing this, I�d better get a move on.

I�ve just finished typing up my Monday�s work so I can spend tomorrow, my first day off in weeks, sitting (again) in the dentist�s chair. Sounds fun, heh?

My life is just too much fun for words�

Must be why I never seem to have any anymore�

Cheers,

Bex

4:01 pm - 13 November 2005

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