Dreamy suburban warfare: Random Tuesday Thoughts


I thought I'd center the button today. It feels weird and slightly dirty.

So, how's it going? Come here often? Yeah? Well everything you heard about me is a lie and you already know how this works.

New here? Really. Well how YOU doin'? Want to play some games?

Blog games! Blog games! Not any of that other weird shit. Here's how it works: You write a totally rambling and potentially incoherent post, you take that shiny purple button up there, and you use it to justify what would normally make your followers wander off in confusion. Then you leave your link with Mr. Linky and the rest of us can TRY to follow along! Bonus points if you manage to offend people!

No, not really. I made that last part up. Let's begin:

So I know I blog-threatened our house mouse last week, but then with the whole detox/cleanse thing and my son getting sick, I didn't really have time to wage full-out war. I put out a couple of token traps, just to let him know that I knew he was there. Which he promptly mocked by eating the peanut butter from without setting them off. And then, to add insult to injury, the little fucker waltzed across my living room Friday night while I was sitting on the couch, trapped under a sleeping toddler.

The next day, in between doing vomit laundry and providing a cushy surface on which my son could nap, I sealed up the hole under the sink that I suspected he was using to access the garbage. He got in anyway, and as if the chewed-up garbage bag weren't enough evidence, he left his fecal calling card on top of the garbage catcher. Oooohhhhh, he's got tiny steel ones, this boy.

So today, because it was a holiday and my son was feeling well enough to shoo out into the backyard with his father, I launched an assault. That mousey bastard screwed up by running in front of me - now I know his paths. I put traps in likely spots, baited with scant amounts of peanut butter, and removed every other food source I could find, including the garbage.

Good way to spend the long weekend, no? That one's for you, Queen Victrola - don't say Canadians never went to war on your behalf.

What? It's Queen Victoria?

Whatever. I had the day off.

I know a great big bunch of you are going to leave another comment about, "Cat! Get a fucking cat already!". I know, internets, I know. If you can explain to me how to do that without making my dog's head explode, that would be helpful. Dog brains are messy.

While I had the house a boy-free zone, I also broke out the cordless drill and put up some drapes that have been sitting there, mocking me, for months. Yesterday I hauled two dead trees out to the dumpster and did other yardwork. I feel all manly now. Like I should pop a woody and crack a cold one.

Um, no, okay. They were just fucking drapes.

This detox/cleanse thing has revived my bizarre dream life. I haven't had my good weird dreams (ie, no zombies) since pregnancy, and I missed them. They're a little more disjointed now, but last night I was doing shooters in a nightclub while buying teapots and Mexican dresses.

In my dream, I mean. Ahem. Really.

I had a salad, a couple of slivers of chicken, and some juice for dinner and I'm not hungry. That seems....just so fucking wrong.

Okay, now that I've thought about it I'm hungry. Whoops. I'm off to rustle up some celery sticks or something equally enticing. I bet you have some babbling to do - grab the button and make it happen!