Posts Tagged ‘Shit I don’t Do’

I’ve had a busy weekend and walked all over hell and beyond, and so it’s almost a relief to have nothing planned for today.

I have decided to paint a wall in my apartment, which may seem like no big deal to you, but I am tremendously lazy and historically have not had the intestinal fortitude for home improvement projects of that nature. I pretty much limit my involvement to such things as the application of robots.

But this time I am serious, damnit, and so on Friday I purchased two sample pots of paint. I did not undertake this alone, as I cannot be trusted to pick paint colors by myself, so I enlisted the help of the Unbearable Hotness Of Robert, who immediately informed me that my first color choice was only appropriate if I were a Golden Girl.

So after a certain amount of discussion, we got a very light orange and a light yellow.

And on Sunday I painted a huge swatch of each color on the wall.

This was an unqualified failure. Not the painting, I did a rather good job of that, but the light yellow did not look as rich as I wanted and the orange, which I had had great hopes of, looked a muddy yellow in the limited light of the Casa Del Kaply PNW.

*sigh*

The only thing this really accomplished was to firm me in my desire to paint that wall orange and to  use a deeper color than I had previously thought of. These are all good things, but this process, I think, is going to squeeze my soul like a zit.

I walked over three miles today. UP AND DOWN HILLS. ON MY FEET. It was like Fat Girls On Parade out here in Capitol Hill.

So now I am exhausted, and who wouldn’t be, am I right?  So let us sum up.

I have been diagnosed with seronegative arthritis.  It is a bit complicated, but what I have chosen to take out of it is A) SAUSAGE DIGIT and B) dactylitis. That is mostly because I have always felt like a pterodactyl. On the inside.

The solution is mostly drugs and also some moving around and physiotherapy, which mainly means GET OFF YOUR ASS, FATTY.

Also, you will be pleased to know that my hair looks FABULOUS. OOOO, and they dipped my hands in paraffin which was weird but then they peeled it off and it was awesome.

So that happened.

So it turns out that whole wheat pasta is DELICIOUS. I had no idea. And it’s somehow manages to make you feel like you ate twice as much as you actually did. You feel full on less food, is what I’m saying.

That is some crazy ass shit.

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So I finally stopped fucking around and did my goddamned laundry. Three full loads, trucked back and forth down the hall to the laundry.

It’s not really a big deal, it’s just that I’m working against a background level of laziness that would drop a hippo.

Did you know that the animal that kills more people every year is the hippo? Hungry hippos my ass, those fuckers are dangerous.

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I learned more about the sexual organs of koalas today than I every wanted to know. No, do NOT ask me. Fucking Google that shit your self, I do not want it on what remains of my conscience.

Just three more reasons to prefer penguins, really.

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I kind of want a sock monkey.

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Frannie had diarrhea all over the Casa tonight. And I felt, as I moved around the apartment on my hands and knees, scrubbing tiny, smelly dots of poop, a kinship with my mother. Many a time have I seen her in the same position cleaning up after dog or cat or kid.

Then I gave Frannie a bath, which was just as delightful as you may imagine it to be.

Just another banner evening here at the Casa Del Kaply PNW.

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And that is all the banal chit chat I have for today. Go do stuff or things with tits or whatever. I’m sick of it.

So nothing continues to happen here at the Casa del Kaply PACNW. I cleaned a bunch of shit yesterday, which was pointless since the cats immediately went to work dirtying the place up again.

Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.

Well, I DO know why I bother, and it was waking up this morning to a clean house. It was kind of awesome, and now I know how Bev Kaply must feel ALL THE TIME.

I have an appointment with the rheumatologist on Thursday morning, an MRI on Thursday afternoon, and then bloodwork at good old Northwest Kidney Centers. In the meantime I am just trying to rest and do dialysis.

Oh yeah, and the neverending misery that is paperwork. Someone asked me what the hardest part of my life was, and without hesitation I said paperwork. If I die from anything, I’m pretty sure the COD on the certificate will read DEATH BY PAPERWORK. GAH.

And that, dear readers, is why I could use minions.

Apparently, spellcheck does not believe me when I state that Rheumatology is a recognized medical specialty. It keeps pointing me towards Dermatology which is not helpful at all. Nor is Hematology, thank you.

I mean, really, what the fuck, spellcheck?

So yesterday, the Unbearable Hotness Of Robert and I went to the mall on a mission: to find jeans that didn’t make me look like a lumpy old man. They needed to fit, is what I’m sayin’.

I did not have much hope of success. I have a hard time finding clothes that fit right, and jeans are the bane of my existence, since the styles change so often and never in a way that looks good on me.

The last jeans I bought, I bought at Target three years ago under pressure from my nieces to update what we laughingly refer to as my wardrobe. They never really fit right, I had to keep pulling them up, and yet I wore them for three years. Thus was my conviction that A) jeans never fit and B) I am not worth spending money on.

Fuck that shit.

Turns out Lane Bryant has a system that allows them to make jeans that fit almost everyone, a claim I would have decried as impossible until yesterday, when, within minutes of me walking into the store, they had brought me three separate pairs of jeans THAT ACTUALLY FIT ME AND LOOKED GOOD.

I immediately started to spazz. Robert alternately encouraged my spazzing and talked me down.

We finally bought two pairs of jeans, one straight leg and one boot cut. We also got some tights, which I am assured will fit. And then Robert saw it.

A black lined trench coat on sale for 50% off. Since I do not have a winter coat, I snapped that fucker right up.

I had a winter coat when I moved here, but it never really got cold, so I got rid of it. Then I acclimated and now I get cold like the rest of the Seattleites, so I needed a coat, and a form of raincoat at that.

Plus 50% off? They may as well sent up a flare especially for me.

So that was my Christmas present to myself, and now I am so cute I can hardly stand myself.