It's a sticky morning in Michigan, one similar to my Louisiana childhood. We worked in the yard on the deck lattice work until late yesterday, and now I'm covered in mosquito bites. They do love to bite me, while totally ignoring my Esteemed Spouse!
I had to go back to the eye doctor yesterday for a re-check regarding my floaters. They are still there, large as ever, and they do cause me difficulty in grading papers and driving. But nothing can be done about them. I just have to learn to live with them. It's one of those things that I'm told I'll "get used to" but it's certainly taking a while for that to happen.
Simon the alarm cat decided that 7:30 was time for us to get up this morning. He gets really annoying when he won't shut up. He even got the sock treatment this morning when a rolled-up sock was hefted in his direction. Now, of course, we're up and caffeinated, and he's on his perch sound asleep. Little twerp! But I love him dearly and know that at age 14, he won't be with us for more than possibly 5 more years, if that. Not all cats can live to be 20+ the way our calico did.
I bought a cheap rice cooker to see if I'd like using it. It does work well, but I'm not sure it works any more effectively than my usual method. Sometimes I think about how my mother used to boil rice and pour off the water, leaving this gelatinous, tasteless goo. I didn't learn to like rice until I learned to steam it. My mother hated my rice, considering it "not quite done enough." Her rice looked more like mashed potatoes. Individual grains of rice were scarcely determinable.
Lots of minutiae on my mind this morning, one of which being my need to get a shower. I'm still trying to let my hair grow longer, and so far, I'm not at all sure the experiment is a success! I like to shower every day, of course, but now that I'm older, I don't need to wash my hair daily because it's too dry. (To think I used to think my hair would never get past that greasy-after-two-hours stage!) Getting older has such strange effects. I was talking with a colleague the other day, and we were commiserating over our bodies' tendencies to do odd things, like eyebrow hairs that suddenly start sticking straight out. I also have the patch of gray wiry hairs in front of my ears that don't want to lie down and behave. Gray hairs are like little rebels that do their own thing. No hair product on earth can make them conform! Come to think of it, maybe that's why I don't really mind my gray hair. That's my personality: prickly, rebellious, stubborn, argumentative, opinionated, and occasionally wild. Not often, though. I keep my wild side pretty well hidden.
Are female curmudgeons called "curmudgeonesses"? I would prefer being a "curmudgeonelle." Or "curmudgeonette"?
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