Yeah, I was thinking this would be a good ‘lets make baked goods’ place, but its been a bad day. So … maybe its to be a mishmosh of everything place. And you will understand why I am so scatterbrained when it comes to doing ANYTHING.
It has been a bad day. When I got up I thought… Breakfast. I like breakfast. Its Saturday and things will be wonderful! It’s my day off! My one day off a week. Its not really a day off. I snuck into work, (I work online) and I did customer service and whatnot… because I could really. And when people need help they don’t want to wait, and I’d like less CRAZY tomorrow morning please.
Feeling virtuous, I was thinking of breakfast. I wanted something breakfasty and delicious, though I cant really tell you what that was going to be. It was going to be fantastic though. And then the not really argument happened. It wasn’t an argument, it was just a … crankathon. And it didn’t go away. And the next thing I know, we are not only not having breakfast, but doing epic grocery shopping on a Saturday. Without a plan. I have been in a food rut for a long time, and I’ve desperately been trying to do NEW THINGS to combat it. Like the amazing Chicken pot pie with cream cheese and chive dumplings at Joy the Baker‘s blog.
So then we get home.
Thats the sound of one of our front tires exploding. Big Badaboom. No Multipass. Thats the sound of the Rotor being warped and heating up so badly that the-tire-blew-up. That is the sound of a bad caliper that was replaced last month. Its the sound of my paycheck whimpering. I know paycheck. Its okay…. one day we will hold hands and frolic. But … apparently that was not meant to be this week. That is the sound though, of those nice school clothes I needed for the kidlet being put off, along with the daydreaming I was having of buying girly soaps and various cosmetics in the hope that I could inflate my withering self esteem. Yeah. Crap.
But no, heh, it doesn’t stop there.
Then *she* comes home. And she starts banging on the floor in the apartment above us again. She, you understand, is an 88 year old lady that lives upstairs, and she has some form of dementia. She is by herself most of the time, and she has been harassing us for oh, four years now. There is a lot to this story, there are a lot of details I am afraid I cant articulate right now. But this time, she is accusing us of breaking into her apartment and turning her heat on. This time, she calls the cops. I have never in my life, had the cops called on me until she started harassing us. Its an interesting experience.
The first time I was outraged and hurt.. and upset. Now? Now I am tired. Because even the cops say they cant do anything. Even the cops know whats going on, and know we aren’t oh… turning on her heat (its august in New England) Nor have we ever stolen her underwear (no I am not kidding), They know we didn’t steal her vacuum cleaner, and they know we didn’t steal the air conditioning unit that is installed into the wall of the building above our windows for her apartment. No… they understand we haven’t done all of those things, and this time…. the police officer said that we can either wait it out until she dies (yes, that is what he said. All the while implying how SAD the entire thing is.) or we can move…
So yay! Being afraid to leave the house and sit in the yard. Being too nervous and shot to work on the garden I bravely started planting in the spring. Having the windows closed in August when its a deliriously beautiful 75 degrees because I don’t want to hear her screaming and cursing at us.
We cant move. At least not for another year.
And oh… I promised you daylight time pictures of the ugly cake.