May 12, 2009


I dropped some yogurt into my mouse.

Now my mouse isn't really working properly. Maggie the Cat did her best to lick all the yogurt out (she's a veritable public service where yogurt is concerned), but I'm thinking the yogurt is beating the cat and the mouse.

So now I need a new mouse. I hate that. I hate having to get used to a new anything. (*Note: Here is where Webgod Jeff will make some snide comment on the fact that I use the mouse upside down. He will intimate that I'm a freak. Do not pay any attention to him - he knows not of what he speaks. Well, in a way he does. I do use the mouse upside down. And I am a little freakish. Forget it.)

I am a creature of habit, and switching things out on me always leads to tears and consternation. Whenever I have to get a new computer, I have to lie on the couch with a cool cloth on my forehead for days.

It's probably just a sign that I should be outside doing outside work. We had one of those huge bags of dirt plunked out front. I forgot they were coming, so when the guy knocked on the door, he already had the forklift ready to go. You're supposed to chalk an 'X' where you want the bag. I hadn't done that. We also have a cable line that runs really low over the driveway, so we have to use a hockey stick to lift it up whenever a high truck tries to get in the driveway. We had to do that last year with the motorhome - and then remember to lift it up again when you pull it out. Yeah, that can be troublesome. Remembering to lift if up again.

Anyway, the Poor Sod was on tippy toes lifting the wire, and the forklift guy was waving at me telling me to make up my mind, and all I could hear was the beeeeng beeeeng beeeeeeng noise of the forklift, and I pointed to the bottom of the front steps.

And so he put it there. We can't get down the front steps without doing this little waltz around this humongous bag of dirt. And it's still there, because I haven't trolleyed it around to the back, one wheelbarrow load at a time. Like I promised I would when I told the guy to put it at the bottom of the steps.

Forklift Guy trundled on down the street ('beeeng beeeeng, beeeeng'), Poor Sod gently let the cable down and put the hockey stick away, and I stared at a billion square feet of dirt. The kids caught me pulling on one of the handles. They laughed.

They will laugh until this weekend, when they will be handed shovels. Then, they will cry.

At least I'll forget about my yogurt infused mouse for awhile.


Blogger DJW said...

Having received one of those big bags o' dirt as a prize on a radio show a few years back I can tell you three things about them:

1) They seem bottomless when shoveling from bag to barrow

2) They don't cover as much as you think

3) They cause a great deal of stress to those under 18

Good luck and have a hot bath and rum at the ready.


May 12, 2009 9:47 PM  
Blogger OmemeeOzzie said...

A few years back, we had 9 yards of red cedar mulch delivered. When we ordered, 9 yards, did not seem like much -- to us. Our opinion soon changed when 5-ton dump trucks started rolling onto our property. Took us almost all summer to move and spread it around. Even wore out a tire on a wheelbarrow. Funny story; one of the trucks, after dumping its load moved forward and managed to get the still raised truck bed entangled in overhead wires. The driver feared the worst and started freaking out. He figured his truck was grounded thanks to those huge tires, but had no idea what might happen if he attempted to climb from the cab. Quick call to Hydro One and several crews showed up to extricate one terrified driver from the cab of his truck. Turns out they were telephone wires, but no-one took any chances. The firm that provided the mulch was eventually billed by Hydro One for the manpower in dealing with the situation.

May 13, 2009 9:21 AM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

You need to do what we do and ignore the beauty and majesty of having a designer bag on your front steps for a week. I lay out a (Canadian Tire) blue loincloth (aka; plastic tarp) on our driveway and back a load of dirt and a load of mulch onto that baby and let it drop. It will sit on the driveway for days and the neighbours will grow sick of it and eventually offer to help remove the eyesore by transporting it to the various nether regions of our gardens. Aided by cases of various beer and wine (and the odd gin and tonic thrown in for the lily white skinned sissies that stop by to gawk) it becomes a neighbourhood tradition that everyone loves to hate.

It's a Yin and Yang thing. Love me or hate me you're stuck with me as a neighbour. Let's drink a little and become best friends. Even if it's only for a short while. Mice are cheap. Neighbours are forever.

May 14, 2009 9:25 AM  
Blogger DJW said...


I have a brand new steel roof laying in my back yard.
Unfortunate for me, my neighbours are not yours.


May 14, 2009 11:13 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

Party at DJs!!!!!
We could all become Mennonites for a day and raise the roof. But we couldn't drink beer until after the roof was firmly attached.

I'm assuming the roof belongs to you and was not deposited there with a pair of ruby red slippers.

Good luck with schlepping it on.

May 15, 2009 11:51 AM  
Blogger Lorraine said...

Do Mennonites drink wine?

If so, I'm there.

If not, well, sorry.

May 16, 2009 8:43 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

We make the rules up as we go. If we become Mennonites then we can doctor the faith to whatever suits us.

Beer, wine, roadkill stew. Whatever works.

May 17, 2009 4:18 PM  
Blogger DJW said...

roadkill stew I can do, seeing as I'm working on a rural road right now.

MDB makes a marvelous possum pie.


May 17, 2009 11:08 PM  

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