When it rains, it POURS!

So, I clearly haven’t been blogging the past few weeks. (Maybe longer?). It’s been a rocky road (I so wish I was referring to ice cream, and not hard times). It’s a rainy miserable day, which isn’t that shocking considering it’s the start of my least favorite time of the year here in NOT-SO-sunny Florida – Hurricane season! I’m pretty much smack dab in the middle of the state, so while I don’t have to worry about hurricane winds and surges knocking over my house, I DO get to (not) enjoy the awful tropical storm and hurricane rain, wind, and tornadoes! Oh, what joy. There’s really not too many things that I’m a chicken about. Basically, snakes, mice, spiders, TERMITES (we’ll save this for a rant later), and STORMS. Now, don’t get me wrong. I totally dig a little light drizzle or DISTANT storm that I can sleep through, or read a nice book with. This shit is NOT that kind of storming. It’s non-stop 24/7 flooding. You walk outside and are instantly drenched and hear the “rainforest” sounds of all the Floridian wildlife soaking it up. Lizards, frogs, what I believe to be the “chirp” of baby gators. You basically feel like you’re living in a swamp after a few days of this. It’s okay the first day or so, you hold up inside and have a movie or show marathon or read a book, take time to make some things, maybe catch a nap….day 5, you’re ready to move to the desert because you HATE the rain. You just want to be able to go outside, even for 5 minutes, without getting drenched, or if you’re like me, having to soothe your irrational fear that taking a shower will surely result in instant death in the form of being struck by lightening. I have no idea where this came from in my head, I think an aunt or uncle or perhaps my mother planted this seed as a kid and boy did it grow. I swear, I have showered in the past few days, every day in fact, just after a long pep talk to call my neurosis. As I’m writing this, I totally know that I sound like an absolute mental train wreck, but trust me, of all my quirks and crazy, this is by far the least of the “baggage”.

I don’t typically get a lot of followers, and that’s not something I care about, because I starting writing this because putting pen to paper seemed tedious when you only have 20 minutes and sore hands from hours of crocheting. I mention this because I’ve been hesitant to write what most people typically blog about, their lives, their feelings, themselves. I think that I put a lot of pressure on myself to only be upbeat online or around others. I guess I don’t want to be a downer? Or maybe that’s just not the kind of feelings I’m good at expressing or coping with. I’m pretty lucky in the aspect that I really truly am happy 99% of my days. I wake up ready to take on the day and make it my figurative bitch. Or of course I have a few of those “meh” days where I wake up and go through the motions and am counting down the days until Dan gets home, or it’s the weekend and I can talk to someone that can talk back and not just look at me with blinky cat eyes and then try to eat my slipper. I’ve been in a funk lately. Not like “Take me to funkytown” funk, A FUNKING FUNK! Peanut passed away, or rather, we elected to end his suffering and do “the right thing” by letting him be at peace. This is a decision that weighed on my mind, heart, and shoulders for a really long time. For those that follow this blog, or know me, you already know how beloved my dog Peanut Butter was (and always will be). I got him when he was a puppy and it was absolutely love at first sight. I slept on an air mattress with him when he had spinal surgery for a month, I taught him how to howl. He was my constant snuggle buddy, shoulder to cry on, best friend. Animals love so much more unconditionally than most humans. No matter what, they love you. Even if you didn’t brush your teeth, your hair isn’t brushed, you’re still in yesterday’s pjs, you’re sick and sneezing and drooling from your nyquil, they love you and want to be with you. It’s really hard to let go of that kind of friendship, even when in your mind you know it’s right, your heart is really slow to agree and then broken when it finally relents. I just really miss him. No more licking my face when I am trying to sleep in, no more biting my socks or sitting in my lap when I cry during sad movies. My dog, my best friend, is in a box on a shelf. It’s just.. sad. I guess anyone who has ever loved and lost someone, or a pet, knows where I’m coming from. Or anyone who has just ever been sad in general. Being sad just feels so heavy. I’ve been trying to pull myself out of my funk by reminding myself of all the great times with him and funny memories, and remembering all the many blessings and gifts I have in my life. It’s just hard. I guess you just have to feel what you feel until you don’t feel it anymore, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t feel bad for feeling bad.

It’s kind of ironic that hurricane season and all it’s many storms has been raging while a figurative storm has been going on in my life lately. I’m not one to throw in the towel or admit defeat, but MAN, the saying “When it rains it pours” has taken on a WHOLE new meaning to me. My house has been fighting an ongoing battle with TERMITES. Though small, and hardly undetectable unless SWARMING (we’ll discuss this later), they are an admirable foe. Because, they do not travel alone. Oh no no no, we’re talking a GANG or posse of house eating, flying around your bathroom while you try to pee at 3 am termitey bastards. The termite “guy” (I suppose I shouldn’t name names or throw out the name of the company, but they suck ass. CoughcoughMasseyServicesCoughcough) has treated every single room in my house. I literally saw this guys mug 4 days in a row, 8 times in a month. Sadly, that’s more than I’ve seen my husband who has been traveling nonstop for work. Needless to say, this guy is not on my speed dial because he’s good eye candy. He’s the bane of my existence. The termites, piss me off….this guy, ENRAGES ME. He basically acts indignant that he has to work, that he’s SO burdened by the call to come out and treat the house. I’m a nice person. A really nice person, in fact. I’d totally give my last dollar to someone who needed it. I’m the first person to offer to be a shoulder to cry on or give advice, but I seriously wanted to take his termite wand sprayer and shove it straight up his… Yeah, you know where i’m going. I pay him to come out, to treat the house, to kill the termites. I don’t want excuses, or to be told to be patient it takes time. He’s not the one living in hell house and getting up to pee in the early morning and wanting a bee suit! So, I raised hell and the manager came out and after some very strong words and looks that could have killed, HE personally treated the remaining spots and told me to “give it 2 weeks, it takes a bit to work”. Needless to say when I got ready to shower yesterday afternoon and my kitchen and bathroom were swarming with HUNDREDS, I SHIT YOU NOT, HUNDREDS of flying little freaking termites…. I wanted to go all Misery on his ass. I’m taking the high road and going to wait the 2 weeks to “let it work” before calling again. I don’t want to be the crazy lady that none of the techs want to come service, but I’m so on that road. They better cross their fingers and do the good luck whammy jammy dance that after that 2 weeks all the little termites are gone or I will, as my momma would say “Open a can.”

This has turned into a rant, which isn’t what I wanted, but that’s what it is. So, if you’ve wondered why I’m not on facebook, on Etsy, or blogging, that’s basically it. I’m in one of those funks that you hide from the rest of the world so as to not alienate, startle, emotionally scar, or let innocent victims see the crazy bitch that the world brings out in us sometimes and that we’re ashamed of. I’ll tuck her away again soon I hope and go back to posting inspirational quotes and uplifting moments. For now, this is what I got. And in the spirit of being honest and true to who I am, this is who you get for now. I know that the storm will pass and rainbows will be seen again, I’m just smoking under my umbrella and hanging tough till then. If nothing else, I’ll be happy in August because of shark week. Oh, and I’m at like 96.8 pounds lost. See? Happy times ahead!

Take care, and if you know of any pet stores that sell anteaters or sparrows, hook me up with the info – they apparently eat termites! Hah!

Lulu

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