Saturday, August 29, 2009

I fought the ivy...and I won.

Getting settled into this house is a chore. I am not complaining, though. Just sayin'. And I swear I have organizing ADD. I will go into a room, look at the boxes and think, "ok, I will unpack one, and then take this downstairs, and look at how this would look on that wall, and oh, I want to paint (whatever) color on the wall, and I wonder if I can find a picture to match this or bring out the color in that..." And I get nothing done. I cannot, cannot, cannot focus with so much going on around me.

Despite it all, I am getting 'er done.

It has rained for the last couple of days, and Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun came out today, so I figured I would get some crap done in the yard. The previous owner let things go out there, so there is loads of work to be done. One of which is a mound of ivy growing up and around the outside light in the yard. I figure that tamed, it will look great, but right now, it is jungle-ish looking. I went to tackle the ivy, trusty shears in hand, and got to work. I was sweating my bawlz off, and yanking on a particularly stubborn vine and very into my task at hand. I yanked and yanked...pulled and grunted, shouted "Come on, you bitch!" at which point, the vine gave, I fell on my butt, and looked up to see a neighbor couple walking their dog, right in front of my house.

Yep. This crap only happens to me.

Welcome to the neighborhood to me. They just kind of smiled and beat feet out of there. Not sure if it was to laugh at me falling on my arse, or to get away from the potty-mouthed nutbag yelling at the vines of ivy.

So I come in the house, figuring I need a break and proceed to take the little cup of water that I had the fish in (I was going to clean his bowl this morning, but again, organizing ADD...) dumped him into the sink, and refilled the glass, intending to drink out of it. Distracted again, did not drink, but came back to it in a few minutes and thought,"Uh, where is Gilbert?"

Panic, panic, panic. Bear in mind, this is a Betta we are talking about, but still...

I look in the sink, and there he is, and he is pretty dang still. Great. (And I am gagging in the back of my mind, thinking how close I came to drinking from his cup. Barf.)

I scooped him up and he started flopping around, so I dumped him into his glass (refilled with distilled water, not my cold H2O). He seems to be none the worse for the wear, after a few seconds of floating on his side at the bottom of the glass.

What a day. I think I need to shower up and relax. I have done my allotted damage for the day.