I hate to lose things.
, I lose things all the time.
And when I do I'm like a neurotic dog looking for a meaty bone.
Where are you sniff sniff where have you gone sniff sniff okay who the hell misplaced you sniff sniff who is the thief amongst us sniff sniff where oh where are you sniff sniff please St Tony (I'm on a nickname basis with him) help me out here sniff sniff....
Once when Daddio and I were first married I lost a check.
I'd planned to have him take it with him to work and deposit it at the bank at lunch time.
I'd written out a "how to" list for Daddio to use at the bank...
1. Pull in when you see "National Bank of Detroit" (it will have a blue awning, big white letters).
2. Walk in through the double doors with the papers I am about to give you.
3. There will be people standing behind a high counter, when they offer to help you, give them the papers
I have given to you....
Anyway, I'd just put the finishing touches on the how to list, (which was really more like a manual) when I discovered that I had no idea where I'd put the check.
Thus began a frantic search.
Which was going on when he left for work (about 8am).
And was still going on when he came home (about 5 pm).
When he walked in the door.I was still in my pajamas, hair uncombed, teeth unbrushed (I only did that one other time, when I started reading the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. It was so good I sat and read it straight through. I don't think I even stopped to pee. Daddio was more than a bit perturbed when he got home that night and not a damn thing had been done, no housework, no dinner, just a tissue holding dewy eyed wife in a serious emotion fest meltdown after finishing the last page).
(I can't say this time there wasn't a little Oprah or a nice leisurely lunch in there somewhere ...but still, for many, many hours I searched and searched and searched).
I did finally find the check.
It was in the garbage.
I blame Daddio for that one.
He throws all kinds of crap out...my wedding dress (the story of the missing wedding dress is a story for another day), my grandmother's antique lamp, his mother's antique typewriters.
He clearly has no appreciation for things of value, especially old things of value
I fully expect to one day find myself at the curb, dressed in a black garbage bag with a yellow tie around my neck....
I've asked the neighbors to kindly bring me inside when it happens.
On Friday afternoon I noticed that I lost a "follower".
If you are a blogger you know how incredibly horrible it is to lose a follower.
We don't come by them easily.
And it is how a successful blogger is defined.
I've worked especially hard to build my following... I write stuff, hit the "publish" button and then hope somebody gets a giggle...or a bit o water in their eyes...or a "wow...she sounds just like me" feeling....
Not everybody that visits your blog becomes a follower, most don't actually, so I guess that the very fact that they took the time to sign on as a follower propels them to VVIR
Important Reader status)... anyone (and everyone
) that stops by is important, don't get me wrong...but these people leave a card to let you know they've been to your place and they plan to come back.
Well, like I said a few rambling paragraphs ago...on Friday I lost a follower
I'm pretty sure it was because I used the phrase "for christsake"....
I really thought I had myself covered when I didn't capitalize the Christ part of the phrase...in my (pea??) brain, that made it okay to say...not meant to be blasphemous,
Just a phrase choice.... and not one that I really even use.
I'm not going to lie... I do
think that phrase a lot.
I just don't normally write it.
But Friday I did.
And I think I pissed someone off.
I guess I wasn't a good hostess.
My home felt unwelcoming, dirty even.
Like I had a stinky mangy unkempt dog that kept trying to hump their leg.
Or worse yet, a pubic hair on my kitchen table.
Yuck... this lady is clearly a pig and I won't be coming back to her house.
Losing that follower made me feel bad.
If you've ever seen a hair on my table, or I've allowed my dirty dog to mistreat you, or you just feel plainly offended by my bad breath, my word choice, whatever, I want to apologize.
I need to say too that I have to be myself, my true self...full of imperfections, bad words, frustrations, and on it goes.
I want to be your go to blog girl.
I want to be a good hostess and I always hope you want to come back to my place and visit.
I want to have faithful readers and followers.
I want to keep them too.
I am sorry if I offended you.
You are going to be missed.