It's been a day of laughing a lot. First, I started reading a book by an author that I normally wouldn't be caught dead with. She's cashing in on the latest craze of demons and magic, and I was given the set of 3 books to read by someone who reads that kind of stuff all the time. Now, this writer is a romance writer, and a VERY prolific one at that. I don't know why I am such a snob about this stuff. This woman has written over 150 books. I have written, well...none. Anyway, I was laughing to myself about the absurdity of me even worrying about what I read. I am a voracious reader and will pretty much read anything that isn't nailed down. I have been like this all my life. And this stuff is really vaguely interesting. So....
I have been entertained by all these animals at my house all day today. I've had cats doing tightrope acts across the top top of my kitchen cabinets, dogs chasing frozen smashed plastic milk jugs around the yard, a cockatiel that kept trying to out- talk me the whole time I was on the phone today, and a kitten that got his big fat kitten head stuck in a drinking glass, trying to steal my iced tea. I laughed my self silly with that one.
I tried to get up the energy to go to town for a haircut and I just couldn't do it. I started looking at my hair in the mirror and thought, what the hell? I could probably cut it myself. Granted, when you are talking to yourself in a mirror, it's generally NOT one of your more stellar decision making moments. I grabbed the barber scissors and started hacking it off. Then I pulled out a razor comb and ...well, you can guess the rest. I took off about an inch or more, I think. It's not horrible...and as is usually the case when I get a haircut (no matter WHO cuts it) my first thought was, well--it'll be great in about a week.
I was looking around my living room tonight thinking...what is the deal with me???? Because the thing is this: I really don't care about stuff like I should. My house is decorated in yard sale chic. My pets (as babies) have chewed the edges of tables, clawed upholstery to ribbons, peed on my carpets...they sleep on the furniture, they climb across the cabinets, and they drink out of the sink. (well, the cats do--not the dogs. lol) Between last night and today, I cleaned up cat puke twice and dog puke once. The cats have scratched up my beautiful dining room table chasing each other up and over and across it. I would no more consider buying new furniture that animals couldn't sit on than I would fly to the moon. I look at little teeth marks and remember Molly chewing when we first got her, as she tried to get used to new owners and a new home....where little Caylee cut her teeth. The floor is littered with dog toys, and they have their own toybox. I don't care if my hair isn't perfect or that I NEVER wear makeup or that I tell people if you don't want fur or feathers on your clothes, don't come to visit me. I live in a comfortably shabby home, with coverlets and throws on the furniture to keep the staining at a minimum, curtains and drapes that have claw marks in them, and stains on the wall where we throw the dog toy down the hall and the Jack Russell Terrorist flings her little body against the wall like a racquet ball player. There's enough fur under my table somedays (usually vacuuming day, which is every other day here) to make at least 3 new dogs or cats at any given time. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
So, I laugh at my haircut, finish the dishes and turn out the lights. The animal food bowls are all filled, the cat boxes are all scooped, and the Kelley house settles down for the night.
It's enough to make a girl pee when she laughs....