Took the Day Off

After I hit a thousand posts on this little bloog of a blog I promised myself I'd take a day off now and then.

Looks like I took one yesterday - in my pj's no less.

Back to more weighty subjects tomorrow.

And thanks to The Vermont Country Store for the nightie.

Thanks to Lanz of Salzburg I really mean.

No thanks at all to elasticized undergarments and ironing ,neither of which came into play yesterday...

I know I've said before that I never wear those crazy Spanxy things. I once brought home an Extra Large one, just on trial, only to realize I couldn't have gotten it on without removing a rib.

As I recall it wouldn't even fit my cat who out-and-out refused to give it a try, even when I offered him fresh mice as payment.

As for the non-ironing in evidence here, that part surprised even me, since I iron the way some people do the Stations of the Cross.

But what can I say? A day off is a day off, right? And even your pets know that that's precisely what weekends are FOR: just lettin’ it all hang out.

The Daily Grind

This is me at the daily grind. Ironing that is.  OK, not really. This lady's naked and I mostly stay dressed when I iron - nowadays anyway; it's not like that long ago time when we all heated  our houses to  80 and we could iron in bikini undies and a bra.  (Burned myself good doing that once. Still have this pointy little delta of a scar right next to my bellybutton.) As i say, I stay dressed while I iron now. I watch dumb TV at the same time so I kind of like the fact that no matter how many times I iron I still have a lot more ironing ahead of me in my life.This is the real me below having just ironed the tablecloths. I say tablecloths, with an 's,'  because you should always use two cloths in case the cat throws up on the table or someone has a nosebleed in the middle of the entree or something. With two you just whisk off the top cloth and you’re set (and don't try to tell me they don’t do exactly this in restaurants.)  The bow on that Christmas wreath is a hair thing from the 80s. (Remember when we all had poofed-out hair and wore all this fabric up on our heads?) That bookshelf  deserves a post all its own so I'll leave that alone for now but see that lint roller on top of the cookbooks? Again the cat. He sheds like mad and the lint roller picks up the hair . Just under that shelf and out of sight is the tube of tuna-flavored cat cream the vet made me get for old Abe. You smear it around the cat's mouth and he licks it for the nice fishy-smell, swallows some in the process and after a while - boom! - out comes a furball. Never mind that I have never once seen a  furball in 15 years of caring for him. I keep the tube around anyway for comic purposes. I try to pass it off as fancy lip balm and offer it to unsuspecting guests.