Stop whatever you are doing right now and head over to Amazon......yes, it's a book review

I am not kidding.  I have just read the MOST amazing book.

Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger.

You might recognize that name as she also wrote The Time Traveler's Wife (also an excellent book, pick it up while you are buying this one).

Verbatim from the back cover....

Julia and Valentina Poole are twenty-year old sisters with an intense attachment to each other.  One morning the mailman delivers a thick envelope to their house in the suburbs of Chicago.  Their English aunt Elspeth Noblin has died of cancer and left them her London apartment.  There are two conditions for this inheritance:  that they live in the flat for a year before they sell it and that their parents not enter it.

The girls move to Elspeth's flat, which border the vast Highgate Cemetery, where Christina Rossetti, George Eliot, Stella Gibbons, and other luminaries are buried.  Julia and Valentina becoming involved with their living neighbors: Martin, a composer of crossword puzzles who suffers from crippling OCD, and Robert, Elspeth's elusive lover, a scholar of the cemetery.  They also discover that much is still alive in Highgate, including - perhaps - their aunt.

If THAT isn't enough to pull you in - then let me tell you this; although this is a ghost story; it isn't.  I mean you are not going to find yourself knee-deep in a Stephen King-esque kind of story.

I have just spent the majority of the weekend with my head buried in this book.  Seriously.

I want so badly to spill it all out, but I know if I keep typing much longer I will.  So, I'll just say this.  This woman knows how to write.  She knows how to develop her characters and pull you in.  Once you pick up this novel you will not want to put it down until you are finished.  And then?

Then you will want to pick it up again immediately and start over...just to see what you might have missed on the first read.

I kid you not - this is a book that you need to read.  And then after you've read it, let's discuss, seriously.  Because I need to talk to someone about this book.

Now go!  I'm waiting...

Thoughts about houses, college life, taxes, FAFSA and hair...it always boils down to the hair

Yeah, I know.  I've not been the best blogger in the world lately.

Would it help if I told you that I "write" blog posts every single day....IN MY MIND?

Yeah, I didn't think so.  But it's true.  They are there, bogged down in the insane recesses of my brain.  Somewhere.

The thing is, I generally have to have a fairly reasonable grasp on sanity in order to sit down and share my thoughts.  And lately?  I have not had any semblance of having a grasp on sanity.  And for the life of me I can't figure out why.

At any rate, here's what's been on my mind lately.

First up, the house.

The husband is once again making noises about selling the house.  He has listed all sorts of valid reasons and justifications.  And I know that he is right.

But here's the thing.  I LOVE this house.  We designed and built this house and it has everything I've ever wanted in a house; except for the fact that it's not exactly IN a neighborhood.

I really don't want to think about packing and moving.  I don't want to deal with the whole "keeping the house perfect" thing that goes along with showing a house.  I don't want to try and figure out where we will live.

I know that selling is the best option.  For one thing it will help get us out from under this mountain of debt we have accrued over the past two and a half years while Hubby was unemployed.  I know that downsizing would mean that I have much less housework to deal with and more money in the checking account, so that I could sneak purchases into my closet more often.  I know all this and still....I don't want to do it. Our plan had been to live here for at least ten years.  It's only been about four.

But for now, he's just talking.  He hasn't stuck the sign in the yard.  So I've got time to make my peace with it.

Next up? Man-Child.

Bless him.  He loves college.  And up until now, has been breezing through.  But this semester he had to take a math class.  He told me the other day that he'd had a test and he wasn't sure how he'd done.  Yesterday he called me to tell me that he'd completely bombed the test.  He was unhappy.  He said, "Mom, the questions and problems looked like they were in Russian."  I know; GOD do I know!  Neither his father or I am mathematically inclined either.  In high school he did okay in math, how I don't know, when he's got our genes coursing through his body.

But despite this being the "easy" math course, he's having a rough go of it.  He has decided that he will look into tutoring to get through it.  I don't think he will be selecting a major that requires a lot of math.  And I don't blame him, not one tiny bit.

The next thing that has been on my mind - taxes and filling out the FAFSA for college next year.

Well, not really.  I had banished those thoughts from my mind.  But Hubby kept reminding me.  Over and over and OVER again.

I hate doing our taxes.  Like a dummy, I persuaded him to use TurboTax last year.  Because it would be SO much cheaper.  I forgot that using TurboTax meant that a computer would be involved.  And since a computer would be involved that meant *I* would be involved.

Doing our taxes now means that I sit at the keyboard and ask the questions while he shuffles through the papers and throws out the occasional, "I don't know!" while running his fingers through his hair and I get frustrated.

But I can mark that one as done.  We did them on Sunday and miraculously I didn't kill him and, obviously, he didn't kill me since I am typing this post.  And we are once again crossing our fingers and praying that we don't get audited all because we don't know what in the hell we are doing; as referenced a few paragraphs previously.

After we were done, I made him take me to dinner because I deserved a reward after spending an afternoon going through that particular hell.

Dinner was an event only because our waitress, bless her heart, came up to us with the check, looking extremely flustered and said, "Here's the thing...oh, my heart is pounding....my manager is going to kill me..."

Apparently, she'd given our check to another table, that had already left.  When we noticed that their check was very similar to what ours would have been we told her not to worry about it; that we would take care of it.  The look of relief on her face was palpable.  It was only after we left that Hubby informed me that MC had told him he would never work at this restaurant because he'd heard from other kids, who have worked there, that the manager is an ass.  And after seeing this poor girl's face, I can believe it.  For the record, I will never eat there again - despite the fact that I like the place, only because I don't want to give someone my money who is terrorizing to his staff.  The staff which is mainly made up of kids.

At any rate yesterday, bright and early, Hubby reminds me about the FAFSA application.  Dear God in heaven...

But I did it.  It's done.  So now, I can well and truly banish them from my brain until next year.

And then there is....my hair.

Yes, if you've been around here for any length of time, then you are well aware of how much time I spend pondering my hair.  The state of it.  The length.  The cut.  All of it is up for pondering.

I've been growing it out, mainly because of finances and also out of curiousity.  And it got to be the longest (and rattiest) it's ever been.  So I called the new lady I've been seeing lately to get a trim.  It turns out she left the establishment (before Thanksgiving - so that gives you an indication of how long it has been since I last cut my hair.  It also gives you an idea of how ratty it was).

Now I had a quandary on my hands.  Take my chances with someone new or suck it up and go back to the guy I used to go to back when we occasionally had money to throw away on frivolous things like haircuts.  Throw into the mix, that I'd mentioned getting a haircut to a friend who immediately informed me that she liked my hair shorter and even told me the way she liked it best.  Funny, I'd been thinking about cutting it off anyway....

So I decided to call my old guy.  Because if I was going to chop it, he was the one to do it.  I called him on Friday.  But it's been so long since I've seen him, I soon discovered that he now doesn't work on Fridays or Mondays and only works every other Saturday.  And, as I'm sure you've guessed, I hit the weekend that he didn't work.  When he called me back, he squeezed me in for today.  I love that guy.

So I went in and he chopped it.  About three to four inches.  Sorry, no before and after pictures because I didn't think about it that's how I roll.  Now keep in mind, I've just lost THREE TO FOUR inches and, if you are a woman, you know that is a LOT of hair to lose.

So I'm feeling all kinds of sassy and pretty - because this guy has the knack of not only cutting your hair to perfection and chatting but also for making you feel like the prettiest woman on earth by the time you leave his chair.  But when I came strolling in the house Hubby looks at me and says, "I thought you were getting a haircut?"

I may have to kill him yet.

Lincoln...and the drama of shower curtain liners

How does the two very different topics relate?  They don't.  Unless I am giving you a quick re-cap of my weekend.  Which I am.

On Saturday the most unusual thing happened.  My husband and I went to a matinee.

This is unusual because it normally it is easier to move a mountain than it is to 1) get him to actually go to a theater and 2) actually have us both agree to see the same thing.  And that is why I rarely get to the movies unless I am with a girlfriend or Man-Child.

But, somehow, Friday night we were discussing various movies and we both agreed we would like to see Lincoln.  So I declared it a date.

Although there was some hedging on his part - not about going but he thought he might want to see Argo instead.  I'm sure it's a good movie - but not one that I'm particularly interested in seeing at this point.  Especially at theater prices.

Although, we all know the outcome of the movie, Lincoln, I'm reluctant to give anything away because I don't want to spoil the experience.  But I will say this, the movie is excellent.  Daniel Day-Lewis is a very convincing Lincoln and does an fabulous job.  As does Sally Field; I heard she had to fight  for the part - and I'm glad she did because, as usual, she was amazing!  And if you are even slightly interested, I'd heartily recommend that you go see it.  

Although I've never been a history buff, after the film I found myself scouring Google for all the information I could find on Mary Todd Lincoln and her youngest son, Tad.  I was curious to see what had happened to them.  As I'm sure you all remember from your history classes taken, lo those many years ago, much of the attention was focused on Lincoln, his legacy and not so much on what happened to his family after he was gone.

I was saddened to learn that Tad died when he was eighteen and that Mary was, in fact, institutionalized, by her oldest son, for a time.  But looking at the circumstances, I'm not surprised.  She outlived three of her four children.

Which leads to shower curtain liners....somehow.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but we have been displaced from our shower.  We've been forced to use *shudder* the guest/Man-Child's shower.

We've been displaced since prior to Christmas.  Despite Hubby's everyday statement, "We've GOT to get this finished this weekend!"

As I am sure you can surmise, via this post, the shower has yet to be fixed.

At any rate, over the Christmas break it was brought to my attention that not just one of my guys, but BOTH of them, had issues with the shower curtain rings.  Seriously?  How hard can it be to work shower curtain rings?  (It was also made apparent to me, that none of us are tolerant of the others shower habits.  But surely, that is another post for another day.)

Apparently, if the rings are open-ended like this....

Then the boys tend to yank the curtain right off the rod.  Because, ya know, brute strength is required when closing a shower curtain....

So in my infinite wisdom (weeks later, of course) I forced Hubby into a department store prior to the movie and bought some closed rings...

With the purchase accomplished, I figured yesterday would be the perfect day to remove the old rings, wash the curtain and the liner and replace with the new rings.

Oh....if only it were that simple...

After I washed the (plastic) liner and began to hang it, I realized that somehow I had shrunk the liner!  Who knew that plastic could shrink?  That much!

To my dismay, I discovered that I'd washed the liner in hot water, in an attempt to get that bad boy as clean as it could possibly get.  Which, apparently, is a big NO-NO in the plastic world, and that darn liner had shrunk.  It had shrunk to the point that it was useless.

Not to be undeterred, I marched off to the nearest Target in search of another liner.  They aren't expensive, this was no big deal.  I bought the liner and headed back home.  And as I was replacing the liner and the curtain, I marveled at how wonderful it is that the ring people and the liner people keep things so simple, by selling twelve rings in a box and liners and curtains with exactly twelve grommets.  Everything in life should be so easy-peasy.....

Only to be befuddled three minutes later.  THIS new liner only had ten grommets....but, I had twelve rings.  In my confusion, I turned to the poor, old, shrunken liner to count.  Yes, it had twelve grommets.  The curtain had twelve grommets....but the new liner only had ten?

What kind of foolishness was this?

I called Hubby upstairs.  He looked at the liner.  He looked at the rings.  And he proclaimed the liner to be too short.  I could have killed him.

Right about that time he pointed to the package and said, "Well, here's the problem...this liner is for a shower stall...not a tub."

WHAT THE HELL?

In my twenty some odd years of dealing with bathtubs, shower curtains and liners, I have NEVER run across different sized liners....never, not once!  NOW I find out that they have different sizes?

"You need to go back and get a different size" he said.

Needless to say, I gave him the death-ray glare since, obviously, none of this would have happened had our shower been fixed weeks ago...as he's been declaring since before Christmas!

So this evening, after work, I found myself back at Target perusing the shower curtain liner aisle - funnily enough, half an aisle is dedicated to liners....seriously, who knew the options were endless?  Heavy weight, medium weight, light weight.  Clear.  Almond.  White.  Regular size and stall size (which I still maintain is a new edition to the liner world).  Did I notice a price difference in the regular size and the stall size?  No, I did not.  Apparently, you pay the same price for the ten grommet liner as you do for the twelve grommet liner.  I sense a ripoff.

So I leave you with this - go see Lincoln and pay attention when you are in the market for a new liner.  Oh, and what are the odds that my shower will be fixed before Easter?  I'm thinking slim to none. *sigh*

Ok....tell me the truth. Does this kind of thing REALLY only happen to me?

Remember way back in April when I shared the story of my year-long, misdiagnosis?

So fast forward nearly a year, I called the pharmacy to have one of the prescriptions refilled - one that I have already had refilled once - whereupon I am informed that my refills have run out.  The pharmacy assistant (who sounds all of eight) advises that I call my doctor.  And so I do.  Only to be informed by the nasal, irritated sounding voice recording that if I am calling for a prescription refill that I need to have the pharmacy call.

Oh joy.  Because I have all kinds of free time during my work day to be playing phone tag with the pharmacy, the doctor's office and back to the pharmacy.  Not to mention that I have absolutely ZERO privacy at my desk for these types of conversations.  So either I am forced to whisper frantically into the phone praying that the party on the other end isn't deaf or I must seek out an unoccupied space that houses a phone.

At any rate, I finally get a chance to call the pharmacy back where I find myself explaining to the possibly eight year old pharmacy assistant that they need to call for the refill.  To which she responds, "Ummm....I don't think I can do that?"  (Seriously, WHY does the younger set feel the need to speak in questions?  It drives me crazy)  Eventually, she is convinced that maybe, just maybe, she can do it after all.  Much to my relief.

Fast forward to a few days ago, when I realized I never did hear back from the pharmacy about my prescription.  So once again, I search out a semi-private phone to call the pharmacy only to be informed by another pharmacy assistant (this one was older.  MUCH older...fifteen, maybe) that my refill had been denied because, according to his notes, the doctor said she'd never prescribed that medication to me.  Which, of course, left me feeling guilty - like I was some kind of drug addict, trying to score unprescribed psoraisis medication.  You know, because that medication is HIGH on the list of prescriptions that drug users are trying to score...

I was floored.  I told the assistant that was funny, since I was holding the bottle with my name, the doctor's name and the pharmacy's name on it.  He, being the clueless lad that he was, didn't have a clue.  So I called the doctor's office where, after what seemed like hours of navigating my way through phone-tree hell, I finally connected with a real, live, human being.  It was a miracle, I tell you.  An out and out miracle.

After perusing my file, the nurse concludes - that according to the notes - the doctor DIDN'T prescribe that medication to me.  The medication I've been using for nearly a year.  She prescribed something in the same family - but not that.  What she'd prescribed was a "solution" not a "spray."

Ye gods!  Are you kidding me?  Well, on the plus side, at least the medication wasn't something that was suddenly going to make me sprout horns or have me projectile vomiting, or worse.  At least, not any time in the near future.

I heard back from the nurse the following day and all she could tell me is that the pharmacy is "investigating" the problem.  And meanwhile, I continued to itch.

Finally yesterday, the nurse called to tell me that she'd called in the prescription.  The same damn prescription that I'd been denied a few days earlier.  As near as I can ascertain, the medication IS a solution until you take the cap off and put on the spray pump...then it magically becomes a "spray."

Me.  It could only happen to me.  Obviously.  Are any of us surprised?

Groupon...who knew it could tell you something new about the town in which you live?

I know, I know; I'm a little late to the party - but I just discovered Groupon.

Sure, I'd heard about it and even went so far as to check it out at one point, but couldn't find it in myself to commit and give them my email address.

Not because I don't love saving, because I do!  But because the thought of one more email hitting my inbox that wasn't personal, business or blog related just made me want to pull out my hair and run screaming down the street.

As you know, I am now the proud owner of FIVE (yes, FIVE) email addresses and as you can imagine, they all pretty much get filled up with random crap.  Look at something on Amazon?  Then you can be sure that email starts pinging with "Since you looked at this, we thought you might like that" emails.  Bought something using another email ten years ago?  Well, you are surely still receiving their advertising emails - despite the fact that you've "unsubscribed" at least fifteen times.  And, of course, each of those addresses are all receiving the "You have inherited one million dollars - all you need to do is send me your banking details, along with your first born child to collect...."

It's enough to drive one to drink.  Seriously drink.

The thought of submitting myself VOLUNTARILY to receive emails was just too much to contemplate.  And so, I've ignored it.

Until tonight.  A friend texted me that they got a great deal on Groupon for dinner and wanted to know if we would join them.  Unfortunately, we were unable to take them up on the offer but it set the wheels in my mind to spinning.  So I peeked.  And unfortunately, you can't peek without signing up.  So I took a deep breath and did it.

And guess what?  I discovered something.

Not only is Groupon a place to snag some deals; it is also a place to find out about things about the town in which you live.  I have lived here for about sixteen years now (HOW is that possible?!  Five years, yes.  Ten years, maybe.  But SIXTEEN?) and I never, ever knew that we had our very own lantern-led ghost tour!  Who'd have thought that this little burg would have any ghost stories to give up?  But then again, some of the best ghost stories have centered around the small, tucked out of the way places.

I asked Hubby about it and he'd never heard of it either.  Hmmm, obviously they don't advertise much.  But now that I know about it we will be attending eventually.  When the weather warms up.  Hopefully, there will still be a Groupon by then.  I'd buy the one I saw tonight but you have to use it before the end of March.  And the way our weather has been acting, I seriously doubt if it will be nice enough to wander around downtown following a tour guide for ninety minutes.  And I don't care how good the ghost stories are, I am not wandering around in the rain, snow, sleet or cold for ninety minutes - even with a great Groupon deal.


This post is NOT sponsored in any way, shape or form, by Groupon. 

Twenty-two years, rambling about "free" money and a bit of family drama (otherwise known as: Go ahead and go to the bathroom; this is a long one)

Because I took the time to blog about my utter forgetfulness the other day I was able to recall that yesterday was my anniversary (thank you for all the well wishes by the way).  Yay, me!  Guess who forgot this time?

The look of utter confusion and the slow dawn of realization that crept over his face after I wished him a happy anniversary yesterday morning was the best gift I could have received because it means we are now even and I no longer am the only one that ever forgot.

As Julie so aptly put it, yesterday we painted the town beige.  And it was perfect.

****

I have some gift cards that I received for Christmas burning a hole in my pocket - but I can't seem to find anything that I love enough to actually buy.  It's extremely frustrating.  Does anyone else have this problem or is it just me?

I want to use the cards for something extravagant.  Something I wouldn't normally buy for myself.  But when I hit the shops I can't find anything I like enough or the price is so outrageous that I can't bear to buy it even with "free" money.

I find that I struggle with this every single time I receive a gift card.

I did see some cute winter dresses out there marked down as the retailers make way for the spring merchandise.  The only problem?  They are sleeveless.  Sleeveless, winter weight dresses.  ????

I considered buying one but I knowing that I would freeze, even in the office, I had to pass them up.  We have one woman at work who wears them - sans a blazer or cardigan; the better to show off the pretty details on the back and she looks great; although I shiver for her every time I see her.  And a few other women wear them with a long sleeve shirt underneath and it looks ridiculous.

So the quest to spend my "free" money continues.

****

Today I got a call from my dad.  This is rare.  It also caused me to feel all kinds of guilt because I don't call as often as I should.  But, in my defense (and it's a lame one) I can't stand talking on the phone under normal circumstances.  And with him, half the conversations consists of him saying, "What?" and me repeating my statement/question by shouting into the receiver.

Now, if I recall correctly this is where I left off the last time I mentioned my dad when I informed you that he had split with his wife and was living with her daughter and son-in-law.  Everything was fine for a while.  And then, apparently, it all went haywire a several months ago; as I discovered after he called to give me his new phone number.  From what I can gather Dad and the son-in-law had a falling out - over what I do not know and Dad refuses to talk about it - and he moved out.  On his own.  In poor health.

Over the past year I have asked him several times to think about moving here - it would definitely set my mind at ease knowing that I could keep an eye on him.  He just tells me he'll think about it and moves on to another subject.

Today when he called he mentioned that he hasn't heard from, nor been able to reach my brother...again.  This is normal.  But he was concerned because my brother had told my dad to let him know when he set up a medical appointment - one where he will need a driver or the hospital will refuse to do the test and/or release him on his own and now he couldn't contact my brother.

After talking to my dad for a bit I hung up absolutely livid.  For the life of me, I cannot understand how my brother can be so cavalier about checking up on his father.  I waited until I had calmed down, so I wouldn't say anything rash, and sent him a message via Facebook.  All I said was "Call Dad, he's been trying to reach you."

About forty-five minutes after I sent the message I saw a response saying that he'd been on the phone with Dad for about an hour.  Which I doubt, simply because my father doesn't spend that much time on the phone.  Sure, he'll talk your ear off if you are in front of him but because he doesn't hear so well the time he spends on the phone is minimal.

At any rate, after all this I sat down and drafted a letter to Dad explaining why I really want him to come here.  I even threw in some guilt for good measure, telling him how much his grandson would love to get to know him better.  I told him that all he has to do is say the word and I will fly down (somehow) and drive him back; because I know he won't fly.  And because I know he doesn't want to be "dependent" on us, I even told him, if he wanted, we would find him his own place.  Unfortunately, I can't mail the letter until Tuesday, as tomorrow is a holiday.

As I was writing the letter, Hubby commented on how "old fashioned" I was to which I responded, "I have to be since he doesn't "do" computers."

Hopefully, I can convince him to come since, obviously, my brother cannot be counted on to check up on our father with any regularity or without prompting.  And shoring up my earlier lame defense regarding calling - at least I call more than my brother does which is, apparently, never.

I realize that our family was/is completely and totally dysfunctional but for the love of Mike, does my brother have absolutely NO compassion and love in his heart to spare?  He makes me mad enough to spit nails.

He doesn't seem to realize, or care, that our family is split into a thousand pieces and scattered far and wide. We need to pull together and make a concentrated effort but I think that trying to explain that to him would do nothing but push him further away.  So I tread lightly.

If I could just get Dad to relocate then I wouldn't have to worry so much.

And then I can't help but compare my mother-in-law (who is at least ten years older) to my dad and she seems absolutely spry in comparison, despite the recent hip replacements she's undergone.  While I do worry about her living alone, I don't worry about her nearly as much.  Which just goes to show, if you take care of yourself, even a little bit, the difference is huge.  (I might be seeing a message to myself somewhere in that paragraph)

And with that final nugget of wisdom, I suppose I have held you captive long enough.

Despite the chaos THIS is the year that I get it all together. Quit laughing.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.  I've been sorely lacking in the posting department. Forgive me?

My life has been surprisingly chaotic of late.  No, nothing earth-shattering, or funny, or dramatic, or even silly.  Nothing really to report on at all.

Just run of the mill chaos.

First there was the "catch up" period after being off for nearly two weeks at Christmas.  Fun times.  Immediately followed by the "training" period for the new contract management system that effectively sucked two days of my life, over the course of four half days, down the drain (just whose bright idea was that anyway to have training in January?!) and we aren't even counting the month's worth of contracts that stacked up between me not being able to load them due to the conversion AND the vacation OR the stuff that stacked up while I was in training...and the emails!  THEY. JUST. KEEP. COMING!

So, basically you can say that I've been busy.  To the point that when I come home I pretty much collapse with barely enough energy to even read blogs.  Forget about commenting or - heaven forbid - post my own. Someone please remind me how I used to deal with it all!  Oh yeah...

I was younger then *sigh*.

Oh well, life will go on I guess.

But with the advent of the New Year (although we are already eighteen days in - WHERE does the time go?!) I have decided that I need to get my rear in gear.  That this will be the year that I reclaim my life.  That my days of being known as the one who is always "On Top of It All" WILL be restored.  It has been determined that once again, I will be counted on to remember obscure birthdays and random anniversaries.  It will be assured that we never, ever run out of paper products.  That the so-called junk drawer will always be neat and tidy.  And that those darn pajamas WILL be hemmed (one way or another) once and for all!

Lists have been made.  And I am ready to start striking items off one by one.

And I will start by remembering that tomorrow is my anniversary.  After last year's debacle, it's only right.  I  mean, honestly?  How could I forget that?  Especially considering in all these years he's never forgotten...dammit.  If he had, then surely I could be forgiven for one forget?  Although....he did forget my birthday once...but he got a pass for that since we were in the midst of moving AND his father had just died.

But last year?  I didn't have any excuse.  And this year?  I have NO excuse at all.

So with all that said - who is willing to send me a text first thing tomorrow? Eastern Time, if you don't mind?

Pajamas...a short girls dilemma.

Seriously, it shouldn't be this hard to own pajamas.  I mean...really?

It has recently come to my attention that my pajama bottoms are approximately a good four to six inches too long, thanks to Hubby and Man-Child helpfully pointing this out over Christmas break and then falling all over themselves while laughing hysterically at me one evening.  I was not nearly as amused as they were.

If the truth be told, I've known this - I've just ignored the problem and prayed that I didn't trip over the excess fabric and falling to my death, or a broken hip, as I was walking up or down the stairs.

In fact, this very problem has been plaguing me for quite some time now; since I was about 16 and realized that this would be a dilemma that I would face for the rest of my life!  And I have pondered over the various ways to rectify the problem since, obviously, the pajama designers out there aren't going to fix the problem by creating a whole line of sleepwear for those of us that are, ummm....vertically challenged.

I've tried rolling them up - to no avail.  Since the very nature of pajama fabric resists the whole notion of rolling them up.

I've tried tucking them into my socks.  Very sexy...not!  But efficient.  Particularly on those extra frigid nights when slipping into bed is like sliding between two layers of ice.

I've tried rolling them up from the waist.  Not so comfy.

I've tried ignoring the fact that the hems of my pajama bottoms are dragging the floor and being walked on, which is hard to do, particularly when you do find yourself tripping over them while coming up or down the stairs...

So what is left?

Hemming.

Every darn pair I own.

And, just for giggles, let's throw in the fact that I can't hem a straight line worth a damn.  But I can't exactly take my pajamas to a tailor and have them hem the articles...THAT would be ridiculous.

So I sense a new project on the horizon - once I work up the "I NEED to do this NOW" feeling.

I have a feeling that this will not end well.

My online life is getting FAR too complicated....(yes, it's a rant and, for the record, both Yahoo and Hotmail/Live can take a flying leap off a very high cliff)

It's no secret, I like to keep my blog-life and my real-life completely separate.  Sure, that's mainly because I am an anonymous blogger - but also because it keeps my emails separate and clean.  I know that when I check into  *this* email account I am looking at emails from bloggers, etc. (ok...and spam, since I also use it for shopping).  When I look at *that* email account I know I am looking at email from my real-life people.  And the work one?  Well, that one is strictly for real-life WORK.

But the lines....they've begun to blur.  Through no fault of my own, I might add.

As I've mentioned before, I had three email accounts - key word here...HAD - one for work, one for real-life, one for blogging/shopping.  And I was perfectly content.  Once I went through the Great Purge of 2011 all was well in my little online world...until it began to crack.

When I went to get my new phone the guy who was setting me up told me he HAD to give me a gmail account so I said, absently, "Sure, whatever."  So now I had FOUR email accounts.  Still, no big deal, since I never planned on actually using that account.

Fast forward a month or so and I began to have problems between my blog-email and my phone.  Verizon was AMAZING in that they actually responded to my grumbling tweets and tried to help; where Yahoo never did.  Unfortunately, they couldn't really help as, apparently, it seemed to be a Yahoo problem and since Yahoo was being an ass...

Whatever, it never got fixed.  So I switched to gmail (totally separate from the one installed by the phone guy) - and although that seemed to be working fine - I discovered that when someone responded to a comment (because I AM linked to do so - and you should be too!) I left on their blog, I wasn't receiving it, because it went to the old, useless Yahoo account (although, I THINK I have fixed that particular problem - thank you, Vikki, for responding, literally, two seconds ago - which confirmed it for me).

And although, I can't remove the Yahoo account from my phone (don't ask, I still haven't figured that one out) I also don't receive notifications there anymore (again, don't ask) I was able to add the gmail one; so all was right with the world again.

Until yesterday.  When I attempted to log into my real-life account (Hotmail/Live/Whatever-they-are-calling-themselves-these-days) and discovered I couldn't.  Apparently, they have up and died and are leaving us users flapping in the breeze, as it were (I can only assume, since they AREN'T responding to any tweets either!).

Funny, I AM receiving the emails - via the phone - but NOT via the computer.  I'm flummoxed.  Since I am in the middle of a side job, I HAD to find a way to send an email - without going through my work email or resorting to tapping it out on the phone.  And then I remembered that lone account - sitting there dying from neglect since November.  And I used it; after struggling to remember the user name AND the password - thus, thoroughly confusing my client (not to mention myself).  I was almost ready to order one of THESE (hmmm, they must think we are stupid, since obviously a regular notebook would work just as well!)

And that is how I have found myself with a total of FIVE email accounts!  At this point, I'm seriously considering scrubbing all of them and starting over, because really?  Life shouldn't be this complicated....whether it's real-life or blog-life.

And?  If you were able to get through this post/rant and understand exactly what I'm complaining about - then I owe you a drink; because now I am more lost than ever...and holy cow, this wasn't what I had planned to blog about AT ALL.

So long 2012 (and 2011)! I'm glad to see you go. Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

I see that a bunch of you are doing "A year in review" type posts.  And, while I'm happy to read (and possibly comment on - sorry, I've been really lax in that department lately) them - I am not doing one, per se.

Mainly because 2012 (and 2011) were extremely tough for us.  In those years, Hubby lost his job.  Man-Child got his license and begin to terrify us over and over again with his predilection for wrecking his car.  He was also injured, more than once, I might add, whilst on the field.  Man-Child graduated high school and moved off to college.  And as we struggled with that adjustment we continued to struggle with the unemployment issue.

Basically, they sucked.

Oh sure, there were some good moments thrown in the mix - there always is - and I do try to remember those moments.  But, unfortunately, I have a feeling that, in the future, when I look back on these particular years, those will be the moments I remember the most.

So here we are - with 2013 just hours away.  And boy, oh boy, am I ready for it.

I'm almost ready to get back to work on the 2nd.  Hubby starts as a full-time employee at his new job on the 2nd.  Man-Child will head back to college soon (along with his laundry) - secure in the knowledge that he has gotten the hang of the whole "college thing" - as reflected by his grades from the previous semester (can you say, Dean's List?  Yes, just a bit of mom-bragging; I think it's warranted here).

Picking up on the organizing/cleaning frenzy that occurred around Thanksgiving, I decided that I wanted to kick this new year off with a clean slate - literally.  Of course, I decided that yesterday - instead of say, oh....a week ago?  Needless to say, I'm a bit behind.  But over the past two days, I have cleaned most of the bottom half of the house - top to bottom.  After the Thanksgiving frenzy, the majority of the top half is mostly spotless.  I figure that I can knock out the rest of it tomorrow and the 2nd will dawn, not only with hope on the horizon, but also with that clean slate I have been looking for; with a bit of exhaustion thrown in for good measure.

Upon some reflection, I realize that I pretty much checked out in 2012 (and 2011) and can only attribute it to depression.  Not the kind that medication and therapy would help though.  I think this was more situational (yes; that IS a word - quit underlining it, Blogger!).  I didn't feel the need/want to do anything.  And now that life seems to be getting back on track, I feel more inclined to participate in life again - even if it is just cleaning at the moment.

Although I don't "do" resolutions - mainly because I tend to break them within the first few days - I'm hoping that during this new year I can get back to where I was - emotionally - before life took a great, big U-turn.  That Hubby can finally quit his hoarding/hiding clutter tendencies (particularly since I just found a bunch of new clutter in the closet that I've just recently cleaned out - which means that just got added to the list of what needs to be done tomorrow) once and for all.  That I can find the "happy" again in every day life.  That it will be a fresh start.  Basically, all I'm saying is that I'm actually looking forward to this new year.

And while I'm at it, here's wishing you a very happy New Year.  I hope that it brings you all peace, joy and love.

xo