It's been an odd day. At 8:30 at night, I feel the best course of action is to sleep, but seeing as how I'm not even remotely tired, here I am. I've been trying to think of a good way to describe what this day's been like, and I think the title says it all, I've just been thrown off my game. It happens.
Even at six o'clock this morning, I was miserable. It was so humid that even the short 15 minute walk we take in the mornings left me feeling like I was outside on the hottest day and standing in the sun. I spent the rest of the morning trying to cool off and not feel like I was in a sauna. So I dressed appropriately for the weather- summer clothes.
You'd think this would make sense, right? Well...you'd be wrong. The health department, which always reaches ridiculously warm temperatures during the summer, was ice cold. I had goose bumps for most of the morning. That'll teach me to try and stay cool! Way to throw me off my game.
Being that it's still summer, you'd think it would still be sunny in South Carolina. But courtesy of some super tropical air sent to us via Issac, it's been cloudy and rainy all day. As you can imagine, to a person with my background, cloudy and gray = Northeast Ohio during winter. I think my body temporarily tried to go into hibernation mode. At lunch, I ended up falling asleep halfway through trying to eat my salad.
Then, I had to think what I wanted for dinner. Still inside, still cold and seeing nothing but gray skies, nothing sounded better than good old comfort food. Too bad I didn't have any macaroni noodles. But c'est la vie, I settled on a meat and potato combo, with plans to make biscuits as well. Flash forward to 6:00 p.m., and there I was, once again having just finished a walk, once again feeling like I just walked out of a sauna (Because the dew point is STILL near 75, and the humidity level is STILL in the upper 90s). But now, instead of my normal, light, summer fare, I was staring down some hearty winter food. Even my stomach was thrown off its game. Oh, and the next two days are forecast to be the same as today. Going to be a great week!
I'm not the only one off my game though. Curled up at my feet in the tiniest little ball he can manage is my 70lb Golden Retriever/German Shepherd mix. The dog the maintenance guy has told me, "Is scary and growls and barks the entire time I'm in your place doing maintenance work," has been traumatized today. First it was the glass guy, who came to replace my shattered patio window. Cooper does not like strangers, let alone male strangers, being in his place when I'm not home (But when I'm home, anyone who enters the door is his best friend, including the very maintenance guys he barks at!) So, the trauma of "stranger danger" was enough to drive him to the edge, and the little house fly that has been buzzing his head was enough to send him into madness. He's been running through the house, simultaneously biting the air in an attempt to get the fly, and running to avoid being near the fly when it lands. It's going to be a long night.
So here's to hoping this weather clears up and I can return to my normal, happy, sunny life where the dog isn't running into furniture while trying to avoid an insect. Amen.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
My dog and the ocean.
His brown eyes grew large with fear, and with five large, bounding steps he covered the distance between us in two seconds. He ran behind me and began to drag me towards the pier. So much for my big, brave dog.
In the five years that I've had Cooper, I've not known him to be afraid of the water. He likes to run through the large puddles we get here at Martins Creek after a hard rain, he was ridiculously happy to leap and bound through the Edisto River. When we went to the dog park, he ran laps around the little pond and then turned into "Swamp Dog" as he attempted to wade through the murky water. When we were in Ohio, we went to Silver Creek a few times to play "fetch," and he would run around for hours with his "happy dog smile" on his face. Even at bath time, he will willingly jump in the shower, even though it's not his favorite thing.
So yesterday, when I was looking for something fun to do, the beach came to my mind. I like walking on the beach, he likes water, so it must be perfect, right? Bright and early yesterday morning, we got up and got ready to head to Isle of Palms. The perfect car dog sat quietly and patiently in the back seat and slept as we drove. Forty-five minutes later, we were getting out the car and walking towards the water.
When we got to the beach, I figured I'd slowly introduce Cooper to the idea of the ocean. He had other plans though, and ran towards the retreating water at full speed. He made it to the end of his leash about the time the next wave was coming towards us. For three seconds he had enjoyed jumping in the shallow water, but as that wave came in, it became apparent that Cooper was not an ocean-loving dog.
After his initial visit with the waves, I was able to coax him back towards the water. So long as the waves didn't touch his feet, he was happy. I wasn't about to call it quits after only five minutes, so I drug Cooper along, and we started walking up the beach.
Since I prefer to walk in the shallow water, Cooper was stretched to the end of his ten foot leash, trying desperately to stay in the dry sand. The beach was growing more crowded as time passed, so more than once I had to reel him in so that he didn't disrupt passing bikers, fellow walkers, kids playing in the sand, and other dogs. Whenever I pulled him towards me in the water, he eyed the incoming waves with great caution. Each time the tiny remnants of a wave came anywhere near him, he would leap at least two feet in the air, so as to clear the foam coming in on the wave.
Thirty minutes later, we turned back and headed towards the pier, our starting point. About halfway back we came across a couple and their yellow Lab, who was very happy to see Cooper. After a few seconds of conversation, we let the dog's leashes go slack and the dogs ran towards each other. Sniffing ensued, and after determining that neither was a threat, they began "play bowing" to each other and started to run around. The Lab was clearly a fan of water, and he immediately ran into the water and jumped into the waves. Cooper lay down on the sand, clearly dejected that his new friend had left him, but not about to go anywhere near the water. After we laughed at the dogs, Cooper and I continued on down towards the pier.
Our initial trip to the beach could be classified as somewhat of a failure. On the one hand, my plans to play with the dog in the water did not happen. On the other hand, the dog was thoroughly exhausted by the endeavor and slept for four hours when we got home. I'm hoping that in the future, he'll at least be willing to let the water touch his feet. Baby steps.
Speaking of the dog, as he is now in front of the patio door whining to go out and see Cyrus (a neighbor's ridiculously friendly dog), it is time to leave once again. Have a great week!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Glass
The sound of a shattering glass is unmistakable. Nothing in the world piques the ears quite like that sound. The second your brain records the action, you most likely shiver with the dreadful knowledge that you now have a sharp, potentially bloody, mess on your hands; and half of the time, your enemy is transparent and tiny. If you're careful and attentive, you should be okay. If you're half asleep and not completely mentally present in the moment, you're going to have problems, and quickly.
Such was the case Thursday night. About halfway through the night, I must have moved just enough to send a pillow on to the nightstand, which in turn caused my drinking glass to hit a large glass piggy bank that was sitting next to the stand. At first the sound didn't register. Why would glass be shattering? After a few groggy seconds, I was able to wake up enough to see the remains of my cup shining from the carpet. I could only see a few large pieces, which meant I was in world of trouble.
The dog had been having a rough night too. Right before I went to bed, my normally calm and relaxed dog began panting heavily and pacing throughout the apartment. Occasionally he would run back to me and be glued to my side until I shooed him away. After I discovered that the cause of his hysteria was just a little moth floating around, he was banished to the bedroom, where he took up residence under the bed. The only time he sleeps there is when he is upset by something. Now, as I looked to see where the glass was, I heard the dog shuffling his way out from under the bed. He had been sleeping near the nightstand, and as he shook his coat, I was able to determine that he had been hit by the glass when I heard little shards of glass hitting the wall.
I do not wake pleasantly. I am usually a crabby, unhappy person for the first 1/2 hour after I wake up. When I am woken unexpectedly, I am even more unhappy than usual, and also dazed and confused. So there I sat in the middle of the bed. I can't even say I was thinking, I think I was just trying to process what had happened. I was not reasoning clearly, as evidenced by the fact that my first thought was, "I can clean up the mess when I wake up." My second thought, and first action, was to determine where exactly the glass was. I did this by putting my hand down on the ground and shifting my upper body weight onto that hand so I could lean over the edge of the bed. Yeah. I have a spot on my thumb where I came in contact with a shard of glass. Not my brightest move.
Still not completely coherent, it had become obvious to me that I needed to get the dog clear of the mess before he hurt himself and get the carpet cleaned up before I hurt myself. I can't really describe what I was feeling, other than to say that I was still in a fog. I had three thoughts running through my brain: 1.) You need to start cleaning up the mess. 2.) Stop, you think you're going to clean up the mess safely, but really, you're half asleep and reaching for the glass without any kind of safety measures in place. 3.) DO NOT STEP OFF THE BED!
The third thought finally jolted me out of my brain fog, and I sprang to action. For the first time ever, my dog actually listened to my voice commands and went and sat in the doorway to my bedroom. I knew I was stuck on the island in "Glass Shard Sea" since I didn't have any socks or footwear nearby, so I carefully stretched to reach my bookshelf and grabbed all my hardcovers. I threw them down to make a path of freedom to the door, to shoes, and to a vacuum cleaner. After an hour of careful cleaning, the dog, the carpet, and my room in general was free of glass. Who cares that it was 3:00 a.m., at least I was able to knock two of my "to-dos" (brush dog and vacuum room) off my list for the day.
Well, once again it is time to draw my post to a close. I am now faced with a dilemma: Sit and watch the Olympics, or get actual work done around the house. I for one am leaning towards the Olympics. I mean, seriously, what other time do I sit and watch Bob Costas tell me stories about athletes who have faced adversity and triumphed? Never. Okay, maybe every two years or so, it just feels like never. Maybe I'll compromise- maybe I will compete for gold in the floor exercise. Floor scrubbing exercise, that is.
Such was the case Thursday night. About halfway through the night, I must have moved just enough to send a pillow on to the nightstand, which in turn caused my drinking glass to hit a large glass piggy bank that was sitting next to the stand. At first the sound didn't register. Why would glass be shattering? After a few groggy seconds, I was able to wake up enough to see the remains of my cup shining from the carpet. I could only see a few large pieces, which meant I was in world of trouble.
The dog had been having a rough night too. Right before I went to bed, my normally calm and relaxed dog began panting heavily and pacing throughout the apartment. Occasionally he would run back to me and be glued to my side until I shooed him away. After I discovered that the cause of his hysteria was just a little moth floating around, he was banished to the bedroom, where he took up residence under the bed. The only time he sleeps there is when he is upset by something. Now, as I looked to see where the glass was, I heard the dog shuffling his way out from under the bed. He had been sleeping near the nightstand, and as he shook his coat, I was able to determine that he had been hit by the glass when I heard little shards of glass hitting the wall.
I do not wake pleasantly. I am usually a crabby, unhappy person for the first 1/2 hour after I wake up. When I am woken unexpectedly, I am even more unhappy than usual, and also dazed and confused. So there I sat in the middle of the bed. I can't even say I was thinking, I think I was just trying to process what had happened. I was not reasoning clearly, as evidenced by the fact that my first thought was, "I can clean up the mess when I wake up." My second thought, and first action, was to determine where exactly the glass was. I did this by putting my hand down on the ground and shifting my upper body weight onto that hand so I could lean over the edge of the bed. Yeah. I have a spot on my thumb where I came in contact with a shard of glass. Not my brightest move.
Still not completely coherent, it had become obvious to me that I needed to get the dog clear of the mess before he hurt himself and get the carpet cleaned up before I hurt myself. I can't really describe what I was feeling, other than to say that I was still in a fog. I had three thoughts running through my brain: 1.) You need to start cleaning up the mess. 2.) Stop, you think you're going to clean up the mess safely, but really, you're half asleep and reaching for the glass without any kind of safety measures in place. 3.) DO NOT STEP OFF THE BED!
The third thought finally jolted me out of my brain fog, and I sprang to action. For the first time ever, my dog actually listened to my voice commands and went and sat in the doorway to my bedroom. I knew I was stuck on the island in "Glass Shard Sea" since I didn't have any socks or footwear nearby, so I carefully stretched to reach my bookshelf and grabbed all my hardcovers. I threw them down to make a path of freedom to the door, to shoes, and to a vacuum cleaner. After an hour of careful cleaning, the dog, the carpet, and my room in general was free of glass. Who cares that it was 3:00 a.m., at least I was able to knock two of my "to-dos" (brush dog and vacuum room) off my list for the day.
Well, once again it is time to draw my post to a close. I am now faced with a dilemma: Sit and watch the Olympics, or get actual work done around the house. I for one am leaning towards the Olympics. I mean, seriously, what other time do I sit and watch Bob Costas tell me stories about athletes who have faced adversity and triumphed? Never. Okay, maybe every two years or so, it just feels like never. Maybe I'll compromise- maybe I will compete for gold in the floor exercise. Floor scrubbing exercise, that is.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
New is Old
"You know, I bet if we talked to our grandparents, they'd just laugh at us right now."
A few of my friends and I decided this while we sat around talking the other day. During the course of the conversation, the discussion had come around to our latest obsession: frugality. We spent the better part of an hour talking about coupons, making our own detergents, "upcycling" various items around the house, and all the other random things we found on Pinterest.
Finally, someone asked the question, "What I want to know is, where was all this stuff before? Why didn't we know how to do all this years ago?" Just as quickly, she answered her own question by stating, "We probably just got lazy and stopped doing all this for ourselves a long time ago."
What a true statement. I'm guessing that somewhere between the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the Great Recession, we all had just enough money that we decided that paying for a little extra advertising and convenient packaging was worth the cost. And now, since I'm living by myself, trying to be a good steward of my money and responsible with my bills, I'm reverting back to "olden ways" of cleaning and whatnot.
My new favorite cleaner is vinegar and blue Dawn. I finally got the soap scum out of the grooves in my bathtub without giving myself tennis elbow. With one swipe of a sponge, I cleaned all the baked on non-stick spray from my baking sheet, rather than using half a can of Bon Ami. The worn, yellowed portions of the vinyl in my apartment is closer to the original color now.
My favorite garage sale find of the last month has been 20 microfiber cloths for $2. I use those cloths for everything. I haven't had to buy paper towels since May. Then, washing my dishes today, I remembered that my best dish towels are actually old flour sacks (and that I want to find more!).
The last few times I've gone to throw out "scraps," like the pits to my mangoes, tea bags, etc., I've gone online and tried to find one last use for them. More often than not, I can find one.
I have two end tables with marble insets that I got at a garage sale for $15 and two comfy chairs that I took out of someone's trash on Blake Road that don't match my futon or entertainment stand. Solution? There are no less than two dozen different suggestions on how to make cheap stain out of common products. Preliminary tests show that these stains will last for awhile. Also, I don't have to worry about having to call Poison Control if I spill the stain on me.
I stand in awe of the people who did things like these out of necessity rather than just as part of a fad. I'm grateful to the people who listened to all the times their parents and grandparents said, "I remember when..." so that they could be the smart ones who reminded all of us "young people" how to save money but still have clean homes and clothes and pretty decorations made from recycled items. I'm really excited for myself, because it's cool to make all this stuff and watch my spending shrink. Frugal is fun!
Aaaand, once again we are quickly approaching the end of another Sunday evening. My frugal fun for tonight? Packing my lunch box for tomorrow and ironing my clothes, since line-drying everything leaves my clothes all wrinkled. Also, I'm writing an old-fashioned snail mail letter to my sister. If any of you have some free time, ask my mom (or me!) for her address and write her while she's off in VA, training to be a Marine officer!
Finally, someone asked the question, "What I want to know is, where was all this stuff before? Why didn't we know how to do all this years ago?" Just as quickly, she answered her own question by stating, "We probably just got lazy and stopped doing all this for ourselves a long time ago."
What a true statement. I'm guessing that somewhere between the end of the Great Depression, and the beginning of the Great Recession, we all had just enough money that we decided that paying for a little extra advertising and convenient packaging was worth the cost. And now, since I'm living by myself, trying to be a good steward of my money and responsible with my bills, I'm reverting back to "olden ways" of cleaning and whatnot.
My new favorite cleaner is vinegar and blue Dawn. I finally got the soap scum out of the grooves in my bathtub without giving myself tennis elbow. With one swipe of a sponge, I cleaned all the baked on non-stick spray from my baking sheet, rather than using half a can of Bon Ami. The worn, yellowed portions of the vinyl in my apartment is closer to the original color now.
My favorite garage sale find of the last month has been 20 microfiber cloths for $2. I use those cloths for everything. I haven't had to buy paper towels since May. Then, washing my dishes today, I remembered that my best dish towels are actually old flour sacks (and that I want to find more!).
The last few times I've gone to throw out "scraps," like the pits to my mangoes, tea bags, etc., I've gone online and tried to find one last use for them. More often than not, I can find one.
I have two end tables with marble insets that I got at a garage sale for $15 and two comfy chairs that I took out of someone's trash on Blake Road that don't match my futon or entertainment stand. Solution? There are no less than two dozen different suggestions on how to make cheap stain out of common products. Preliminary tests show that these stains will last for awhile. Also, I don't have to worry about having to call Poison Control if I spill the stain on me.
I stand in awe of the people who did things like these out of necessity rather than just as part of a fad. I'm grateful to the people who listened to all the times their parents and grandparents said, "I remember when..." so that they could be the smart ones who reminded all of us "young people" how to save money but still have clean homes and clothes and pretty decorations made from recycled items. I'm really excited for myself, because it's cool to make all this stuff and watch my spending shrink. Frugal is fun!
Aaaand, once again we are quickly approaching the end of another Sunday evening. My frugal fun for tonight? Packing my lunch box for tomorrow and ironing my clothes, since line-drying everything leaves my clothes all wrinkled. Also, I'm writing an old-fashioned snail mail letter to my sister. If any of you have some free time, ask my mom (or me!) for her address and write her while she's off in VA, training to be a Marine officer!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Showing my age
I found an old journal of mine earlier this week, and I've been reading through it ever since. One of the entries was a bucket list of sorts, full of things I wanted to do "before I was old." I didn't list a specific age, but based on the words I used, I think I was considering anything past 25 to be old. Seeing as how I am now 25 years and 9 days of age, I must be old. And right now, I feel like it too.
Friday was one of the best days I've had at work. We have some county maintenance workers who fit the stereotype of "lazy" government workers, and they had been doing an extremely good job of avoiding all the work we had lined up for them at the health department. The last straw was when they came in, did one small portion of a large job with startling inaccuracy and then had the gall to leave and tell us, "they'd be back next week sometime." So, being the impatient and sometimes "driven to action by anger" person that I am, I told my boss that I would bring my tools and WE could finish the to-do list.
So that's what we did Friday. We worked all day installing stadiometers, correcting some VERY uneven pictures, hanging supply bins, etc. By the end of the day, we had a great sense of accomplishment and rejoiced in our success. But I felt my age yesterday when my muscles, overworked from constant stooping and bending, protested with each and every movement. And it wasn't just my muscles- every joint in my body was cracking with each step. Sigh.
I felt old again today when I was greeting at church. Person after person smiled, shook hands, and greeted each other warmly. Then came the teenagers. Granted, a lot of them were returning from back-to-back weeks of mission trips, serving at camps, and attending their own camp and were worn out, but their vacant stares and unresponsiveness started driving me crazy. In my mind I was thinking, "Someone's talking to you, respond!" and "Make eye contact!" Other random thoughts were, "Stand up straight and don't slouch," and "I'm thinking you could have found a better outfit than a hoodie." What's happening to me?!
I went shopping after church, and my first stop was TSC. I was behind a long line of people at the checkout, and like I normally do when I'm bored in a checkout line, I "spied" on the other people's items. I wasn't the only person with bird seed, borax, washing soda, and fels naptha soap, but I was the only person under 50 buying these items.
The final straw is probably going to be tonight, when I go to bed at 10:00, after I have set out my clothes for work, packed my lunch, and put black beans in the crock pot for tomorrow's dinner. I'd say something's got to give and I need to change, but let's be real for a moment: I secretly love my "oldness." And to all you people older than me who are reading this: I can feel your eye rolls from here.
So as we sit here, once again awaiting the beginning of a new work week, I must go and pretend to have some enthusiasm for completing my to-do list. See? I even have lists.
Friday was one of the best days I've had at work. We have some county maintenance workers who fit the stereotype of "lazy" government workers, and they had been doing an extremely good job of avoiding all the work we had lined up for them at the health department. The last straw was when they came in, did one small portion of a large job with startling inaccuracy and then had the gall to leave and tell us, "they'd be back next week sometime." So, being the impatient and sometimes "driven to action by anger" person that I am, I told my boss that I would bring my tools and WE could finish the to-do list.
So that's what we did Friday. We worked all day installing stadiometers, correcting some VERY uneven pictures, hanging supply bins, etc. By the end of the day, we had a great sense of accomplishment and rejoiced in our success. But I felt my age yesterday when my muscles, overworked from constant stooping and bending, protested with each and every movement. And it wasn't just my muscles- every joint in my body was cracking with each step. Sigh.
I felt old again today when I was greeting at church. Person after person smiled, shook hands, and greeted each other warmly. Then came the teenagers. Granted, a lot of them were returning from back-to-back weeks of mission trips, serving at camps, and attending their own camp and were worn out, but their vacant stares and unresponsiveness started driving me crazy. In my mind I was thinking, "Someone's talking to you, respond!" and "Make eye contact!" Other random thoughts were, "Stand up straight and don't slouch," and "I'm thinking you could have found a better outfit than a hoodie." What's happening to me?!
I went shopping after church, and my first stop was TSC. I was behind a long line of people at the checkout, and like I normally do when I'm bored in a checkout line, I "spied" on the other people's items. I wasn't the only person with bird seed, borax, washing soda, and fels naptha soap, but I was the only person under 50 buying these items.
The final straw is probably going to be tonight, when I go to bed at 10:00, after I have set out my clothes for work, packed my lunch, and put black beans in the crock pot for tomorrow's dinner. I'd say something's got to give and I need to change, but let's be real for a moment: I secretly love my "oldness." And to all you people older than me who are reading this: I can feel your eye rolls from here.
So as we sit here, once again awaiting the beginning of a new work week, I must go and pretend to have some enthusiasm for completing my to-do list. See? I even have lists.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Winning
Winning- adj- the act of one that wins
In semi-disgust, I dried my hands and grabbed my car keys off the table. Who cares if it required an extra trip to the grocery store just to buy dishwasher detergent? I did not have the patience to wash any more dishes by hand. Off to the grocery store I went, glad I was just heading to Bi-Lo, where an old college t-shirt, grubby shorts, and adidas sandals that had seen better days was considered decent clothing.
With detergent in hand, I headed for the self-checkout. Unfortunately, they shut down at 8:00 p.m., and I was there at 7:56. So courtesy of an overzealous clerk, my other choice was to wait in the "15 items or less" line. Thinking this would be the better alternative to standing behind ladies waiting in a regular line with way overfilled "buggies," I took my place in the express line and started reading about the Mayan's prediction for peace and prosperity before the world's end in less than six months.
A few minutes later, I was getting a little irritated. The people ahead of me did not have their little rewards card, but they desperately wanted the $.50 off their tortilla chips. So they recited just about every phone number they knew, hoping one of them would have a rewards card attached to the number. This got old after they recited the tenth phone number.
Suddenly, it hit me. They had at least five cases of beer, and I remembered that there were extra rewards points for the brand of beer they had, plus extra points if you spent over a certain amount. When the twelfth number failed to yield any results, I played the role of Good Samaritan and handed over my card. They got their $.50 cents off, I got $.05 cents off for reaching $50 in purchases, $.10 for "buying" Budweiser, and $.10 for a single purchase greater than $50. And then, I got another $.05 off on my own purchase. $.30 per gallon off my next gas purchase was awesome, especially considering I had only spent $2.49 on dish soap!
The cashier was a little suspect of my motives though- I think she could see me mentally calculating my savings, and I had also sped the checkout process along. But hey, ulterior motives aside, all's well that ends well. I was happy with myself as I walked out to the car. Topping things off, I even found a dime next to my car!
Then I went home and scheduled a trip to the beach with some friends for this weekend, because you know you have problems and need to get out of the house more when you're drooling over $.30 off per gallon of gas. Not winning.
Last but not least, I have approximately 10 days before I venture home. Winning.
In semi-disgust, I dried my hands and grabbed my car keys off the table. Who cares if it required an extra trip to the grocery store just to buy dishwasher detergent? I did not have the patience to wash any more dishes by hand. Off to the grocery store I went, glad I was just heading to Bi-Lo, where an old college t-shirt, grubby shorts, and adidas sandals that had seen better days was considered decent clothing.
With detergent in hand, I headed for the self-checkout. Unfortunately, they shut down at 8:00 p.m., and I was there at 7:56. So courtesy of an overzealous clerk, my other choice was to wait in the "15 items or less" line. Thinking this would be the better alternative to standing behind ladies waiting in a regular line with way overfilled "buggies," I took my place in the express line and started reading about the Mayan's prediction for peace and prosperity before the world's end in less than six months.
A few minutes later, I was getting a little irritated. The people ahead of me did not have their little rewards card, but they desperately wanted the $.50 off their tortilla chips. So they recited just about every phone number they knew, hoping one of them would have a rewards card attached to the number. This got old after they recited the tenth phone number.
Suddenly, it hit me. They had at least five cases of beer, and I remembered that there were extra rewards points for the brand of beer they had, plus extra points if you spent over a certain amount. When the twelfth number failed to yield any results, I played the role of Good Samaritan and handed over my card. They got their $.50 cents off, I got $.05 cents off for reaching $50 in purchases, $.10 for "buying" Budweiser, and $.10 for a single purchase greater than $50. And then, I got another $.05 off on my own purchase. $.30 per gallon off my next gas purchase was awesome, especially considering I had only spent $2.49 on dish soap!
The cashier was a little suspect of my motives though- I think she could see me mentally calculating my savings, and I had also sped the checkout process along. But hey, ulterior motives aside, all's well that ends well. I was happy with myself as I walked out to the car. Topping things off, I even found a dime next to my car!
Then I went home and scheduled a trip to the beach with some friends for this weekend, because you know you have problems and need to get out of the house more when you're drooling over $.30 off per gallon of gas. Not winning.
Last but not least, I have approximately 10 days before I venture home. Winning.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Vacation
Vacation- noun- an extended period of recreation, especially one spent away from home or in traveling.
In the midst of a whirlwind of a Friday morning, it dawned on me that three weeks from that day, I would be counting the hours until my flight left Charleston for home. More accurately, I would be fretting and fussing over whether or not I could get all of my errands taken care of before my flight left Charleston for home. But either way, I would be very close to my flight leaving Charleston for home!
I always look forward to my vacations, or even days off, but lately I've been longing to do so many things that can only be done in Ohio, and the wait may literally be killing me. My kidneys revolted last week and threw a few rocks at me, but since I've sufficiently recovered, I'm back to making lists of everything I want to do. Here's a brief look at my list:
I want to wake up in the morning and hear robins, mourning doves, and red-wing blackbirds. (I do not want to hear mockingbirds!)
I want to take a nice, long walk at a park and not fear that poisonous snakes will jump out at me.
I want to sit in the backyard and hear nothing- no cars, no neighbors, no jets, nothing.
I want to go to Rocknes, eat Marie's Pizza, grab some Asiago Cheese Bread from Buehler's, and I MUST have a hot fudge sundae from Bidinger's.
I want to go to my aunt's house, where I will laugh until I cry, be covered in dirt from head to toe because I rode on 4-wheelers and ATVs all day, and watch the sun set in the south.
I want to see my best friend. I will kidnap her away from others if necessary.
I want to sit down and talk with my grandparents.
I want to catch fireflies and play with sparklers.
I want to play fetch with Chloe, let Kitty sleep on the couch with me (don't tell Sheryl!), and curse at Perro when he almost trips me while I'm walking down the stairs. I will inadvertently scare Allen and then not see him for the rest of the trip.
I want to watch Whose Line clips on YouTube with my mom and sister.
I want to use key phrases in conversation so that my Dad will start singing all of those songs he knows, and watch my sister roll her eyes in response to this.
I want to think of some grand and glorious plan for my 25th (!) birthday.
Lastly, I want time to fly in between now and the beginning of vacation, but to be the longest week on earth when the time comes. (In a good way, of course.)
I don't think I'm asking for too much. Have a great night everyone. See those of you in Ohio very soon, and if you have anything you think I should add to my list, let me know!
In the midst of a whirlwind of a Friday morning, it dawned on me that three weeks from that day, I would be counting the hours until my flight left Charleston for home. More accurately, I would be fretting and fussing over whether or not I could get all of my errands taken care of before my flight left Charleston for home. But either way, I would be very close to my flight leaving Charleston for home!
I always look forward to my vacations, or even days off, but lately I've been longing to do so many things that can only be done in Ohio, and the wait may literally be killing me. My kidneys revolted last week and threw a few rocks at me, but since I've sufficiently recovered, I'm back to making lists of everything I want to do. Here's a brief look at my list:
I want to wake up in the morning and hear robins, mourning doves, and red-wing blackbirds. (I do not want to hear mockingbirds!)
I want to take a nice, long walk at a park and not fear that poisonous snakes will jump out at me.
I want to sit in the backyard and hear nothing- no cars, no neighbors, no jets, nothing.
I want to go to Rocknes, eat Marie's Pizza, grab some Asiago Cheese Bread from Buehler's, and I MUST have a hot fudge sundae from Bidinger's.
I want to go to my aunt's house, where I will laugh until I cry, be covered in dirt from head to toe because I rode on 4-wheelers and ATVs all day, and watch the sun set in the south.
I want to see my best friend. I will kidnap her away from others if necessary.
I want to sit down and talk with my grandparents.
I want to catch fireflies and play with sparklers.
I want to play fetch with Chloe, let Kitty sleep on the couch with me (don't tell Sheryl!), and curse at Perro when he almost trips me while I'm walking down the stairs. I will inadvertently scare Allen and then not see him for the rest of the trip.
I want to watch Whose Line clips on YouTube with my mom and sister.
I want to use key phrases in conversation so that my Dad will start singing all of those songs he knows, and watch my sister roll her eyes in response to this.
I want to think of some grand and glorious plan for my 25th (!) birthday.
Lastly, I want time to fly in between now and the beginning of vacation, but to be the longest week on earth when the time comes. (In a good way, of course.)
I don't think I'm asking for too much. Have a great night everyone. See those of you in Ohio very soon, and if you have anything you think I should add to my list, let me know!
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