Yes, it's pathetic, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Schadenfreude rules, baby. Schadenfreude rules!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Schadenfreude rules
Happy Friday.
Yes, it's pathetic, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Schadenfreude rules, baby. Schadenfreude rules!
Yes, it's pathetic, but sometimes I just can't help myself. Schadenfreude rules, baby. Schadenfreude rules!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
And then the lights went out
As my friend Nancy says, 'Seven days without power is six and a half days too long".
Last Sunday, while the wind whipped the trees in our yard into dangerous contortions, we held our breath, hoping that one of those old trees wouldn't come down and land on the house.
And then the lights went out. It was fun for a minute or two. The kids gathered flashlights and candles and improvised a "survival kit." That evening, we played Sorry by candlelight and watched "Joe Dirt" on our portable DVD player. We had fun "roughing it", for a minute or two.
Then Monday came. The wind had wreaked havoc all over the city. Schools and businesses everywhere were closed. Generators endlessly growled throughout the neighborhood. It was an adventure, and it was sort of fun. For about a minute, maybe two.
By Monday evening the houses across the street had power. We were sure to be next. Monday turned to Tuesday, then Wednesday. There were still over a half-million people in central Ohio without power.
On Thursday we were told that there was a 95% chance our power would be restored by 11:59 p.m. Sunday evening. Sunday! Seven days after the storm. Seven days is way longer than a minute or two.
The laundry piled up. The carpet needed vacummed. The milk was sour. School was closed three days in a row. Every Gameboy and iPod in the house was out of battery, leaving the kids bored and cranky and completely on my nerves.
Sunday evening came, and power -- glorious power -- was restored. It was a long week. And it wasn't fun even for a minute or two.
Last Sunday, while the wind whipped the trees in our yard into dangerous contortions, we held our breath, hoping that one of those old trees wouldn't come down and land on the house.
And then the lights went out. It was fun for a minute or two. The kids gathered flashlights and candles and improvised a "survival kit." That evening, we played Sorry by candlelight and watched "Joe Dirt" on our portable DVD player. We had fun "roughing it", for a minute or two.
Then Monday came. The wind had wreaked havoc all over the city. Schools and businesses everywhere were closed. Generators endlessly growled throughout the neighborhood. It was an adventure, and it was sort of fun. For about a minute, maybe two.
By Monday evening the houses across the street had power. We were sure to be next. Monday turned to Tuesday, then Wednesday. There were still over a half-million people in central Ohio without power.
On Thursday we were told that there was a 95% chance our power would be restored by 11:59 p.m. Sunday evening. Sunday! Seven days after the storm. Seven days is way longer than a minute or two.
The laundry piled up. The carpet needed vacummed. The milk was sour. School was closed three days in a row. Every Gameboy and iPod in the house was out of battery, leaving the kids bored and cranky and completely on my nerves.
Sunday evening came, and power -- glorious power -- was restored. It was a long week. And it wasn't fun even for a minute or two.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
How one knows she's getting old
Today I realized that I've crossed over from "older gal" to "old lady."
Here's how I knew: upon getting dressed this morning, I realized that I am more frequently letting comfort win over style. On a regular basis, I'll know something looks bad or silly or utterly awful, yet I still wear it due to sheer comfort or practicality. I'm like the old lady who wears the plastic rain hat or the grandpa whose polyester slacks are too short.
I'm like the man on vacation who wears socks with his sandals on the beach. Black socks.
I've taken to wearing these litte peds with my loafers (peds are like the little socks at the shoe store you use when you are trying on shoes, only they're not disposeable).
These peds stick out, they're ugly, and they unmistakeably qualify me as an old lady.
But they are very comfortable and without them, my feet and shoes smell awful. Okay, so the shoes themselves aren't all that hip either but they've got great arch supports, and do you know what a flat sole does to my heel spurs? Heavens to Betsy!
Here's how I knew: upon getting dressed this morning, I realized that I am more frequently letting comfort win over style. On a regular basis, I'll know something looks bad or silly or utterly awful, yet I still wear it due to sheer comfort or practicality. I'm like the old lady who wears the plastic rain hat or the grandpa whose polyester slacks are too short.
I'm like the man on vacation who wears socks with his sandals on the beach. Black socks.
I've taken to wearing these litte peds with my loafers (peds are like the little socks at the shoe store you use when you are trying on shoes, only they're not disposeable).These peds stick out, they're ugly, and they unmistakeably qualify me as an old lady.
But they are very comfortable and without them, my feet and shoes smell awful. Okay, so the shoes themselves aren't all that hip either but they've got great arch supports, and do you know what a flat sole does to my heel spurs? Heavens to Betsy!
