annie blog

Killing Time


Well, y’all, here I sit waiting for my floors to dry.  I’ve finally graduated from mopping just here and there while moving in to now being able to vacuum and then mop, like a normal gal in a normal house would do.

If, in fact, this is a normal house.  Maybe not yet….

There have been many improvements — all of them done by us, of course.  I shall not disparage our landlord/managing agent.  No.  All I’ll say is that I happened to see him the other day, out and about, and the fact that he is still living is evidence that I don’t have laser eyeballs.  Because, otherwise, a scorch mark is all that would remain.  I’ve been so mad at he-who-would-be-a-scorch-mark that yesterday, after Jon fixed my dishwasher himself, I told him that I was going to the Dollar General for milk.  Just to prove how crazy I am, Jon was also silently wondering, as a side trip, if that I was planning on dropping by to do a little yard rolling or, perhaps, some flaming bag of poo leaving, just because.  He had a suspenseful wait until I returned.  Though, now, he must be forgetting how frugal I am, since I would not waste toilet tissue on some innocent trees, ever, though, now that I think about it, that flaming bag of poo idea may have some merit.  Perhaps Martha Stewart has a tutorial.

I’m kind of kidding.

Just as an example of what I’m dealing with here, let me tell you what I did yesterday. I spent the entire day, well, except for making soup and sandwiches and a Indonesian Slaw Salad that I’ll share the recipe for soon, scrubbing our depressing bathroom.  Now, so you know, we shall designate one of the bathrooms as the depressing one and the other as the one with the trampoline floor.  Okay?  So, as I said, I was cleaning the depressing bathroom.  It has plastic, cream tile that has swirls of brown with (I thought) splotches of brown sprinkled everywhere.  Pretty, right?  No.  Anyway, I found out that there were only swirls of brown in the tile, no splotches included in the design.  Those million tiny splotches were ON the tile, not in it.  The lighting in there is poor — which is why it took me this long to figure that out.  Also, the splotches were so wide-spread and consistent that I actually have no idea how they got there.  My only guess is that the previous residents allowed an entire pack of dogs to roll around in cement-like mud and then promptly shut the animals in there to shake it off everywhere.  Also, my guess is that whatever caused it (if it isn’t an innocent muddy dog, then I don’t even care to speculate) was an event that happened repeatedly.  All I know is that it doesn’t bode well when you are cleaning your bathroom and simultaneously wondering if you can locate the chisel, you know, to help it go faster.


The bug front has certainly improved.  Maybe that is because many of the water problems of this house have been fixed by Jon during his journeys under this house.  It is surprising how quickly my bug reaction adjusts.  A few weeks ago, I had become so acclimated that I wouldn’t even flinch upon seeing a gigantic roach just, you know, hanging out on the shelf with the toothbrushes.  But, as I said, the bug thing is better, so, last night in the outdoor laundry room, after switching some loads around, I very happily stomped on just a few six legged creatures.  I was just celebrating my victory by pumping my fist when a huge roach jumped down and landed on my head.  Oh, the get-that-bug-off-me gyrations that ensued, y’all.

I hope that my neighbors were entertained.

My floors are dry now and I’ve got doings to do…..

Have a good Thursday, y’all!




  1. This post is hilarious. I want y’all to find a nice house there. Will you be looking? To make you feel better about the roach on your head… some kid spit on my head at the City Museum last Saturday. I could feel that spit the rest of the day/night. YUCK! I handled it pretty well though. No yelling, freaking out, etc. Two kids were up on the climbing boardwalks spitting on folks below. I told the staff and they sent out a lifeguard-type person. I enjoy catching up with you and Jon on your blogs. Take care.

  2. I was just talking with Abby today about the different bugs at each of our houses. Alabama’s was, of course, the cockroach. Roaches were such a regular part of our lives that Amabel, when she was a two, stringing related phrases together in a Wheel of Fortune “before and after” manner would follow, “don’t touch it.” with “it’s a roach.” This was all the more funny to us because she began by noticing something pretty and saying, “it’s beautiful… don’t touch it… it’s a roach.” But you probably had to be there.

    Anyway. Alabama was roaches, our first house in Brentwood was crickets, which were a welcome upgrade, but the overwhelming quantity of them in our unfinished basement was disturbing. The our manchester house has an impressive thoroughfare of ants that marched from the side of the house across the front of the garage to the peonies and back, and sometimes into our kitchen. Gulf Drive was mostly bug free except a hornet infestation when we were diagonal from y’all before moving in to your place. Then, Eureka, yikes, the spiders in the basement were relentless. our first Iowas house had these nasty hairy centipede type things, and our new house has rolly pollies in the basement. I’ll take rolly pollies anyday. And roaches were the worst, even worse than spiders.

  3. Oh Annie feel your pain, not the same situation , but can relate to ALL the feelings! And, my dear, toooo funny, a Martha Stewart tutorial on flaming poo throwing…PRICELESS!! Miss your sweet family and their sweet mama.

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