So here we are. New Year's Eve eve. The GOP house has refused to come to work until today. Because I don't matter to them.
Really, that's what it is. They don't give two squirts about me.
My family stands to lose around six to seven hundred dollars a month if those idjits don't get their collective act together. That is a devastating hit. Like a "can't recover from that" hit. But they're so busy politicking for their rich friends and their "corporation people" (because corporations are, after all, people, remember?) that they'll let me and mine sink rather than make those rich folks pay a bigger percentage than I do.
Yes, that does make me hate them. Being held hostage by bought politicians inspires that in me.
Found an amazing, astounding house in Alexandria. If we were bought politicians or "corporation people," we could afford it without blinking. But we're not, so it will never be anything more than a silly dream. But it's lovely. Here it is. It would put hubby so close to work! Hey, what's 3.8 million between friends, right? Now all I need is a friend who feels the same way!
Terribly windy out, and very cold. We're trying to save some money on the heat bill, but it's all I can do to resist cranking that furnace up. I am ice cold, and that wind is working its way in through those windows and doors, doubled and insulated though they are. It's just that strong a wind.
Woke up crying last night. Can't remember the dream, though. Had later dreams about swimming in this awful, dark pond with my ex-husband and a bunch of other Arabs. The women had the most amazing bathing suits, but I was just in jeans and a t-shirt. Hmm.
Speaking of Arabs, did you hear the one about the Saudi clerics threatening to pray for awful illnesses and such if the government doesn't stop its attempt to allow women more rights? Ew. Just ew. Talk about cheapening your faith and turning it into a bad joke. I have no problem with Arabs (was married to an Arab for almost nine years), and I have no problem with Islam (or at least no more problem with it than with any other religion), but I have a problem with oppressive fanaticism regardless of the faith that spawns it.
And speaking of oppressive fanaticism, how about those new Israeli housing settlements in Palestine? Nice, huh? No, no attempt to cause another blow up there, I'm sure. They're the GOOD guys, remember? Because, as we all know, the good guys take land, exile natives, and institute apartheid policies, and all the while they enjoy our support because--well, because they're the GOOD guys! Duh! Pretty sure the Bible telling us so helps with that.
And last, but certainly not least, can India maybe, finally decide that women are worth lifting up, worth saving? Because I gotta tell you, for a country that tries to forward itself as some sort of enlightened, technically advanced place, it sure does treat its women like dirt. Think it might be that whole oppressive religion thing? Maybe? Just a little bit? Hey, India? Grow the heck up.
Wow. That turned into a bit of a rant. Wasn't intended. I'm cold, and I want to go to Costco then go back to sleep.
And here's some really crappy paneling with a story:
Okay, first off, this is NOT how the room in question looks now. But this is how it looked way back when. See, my dad decided to create a bedroom for my sister down in our mostly unfinished basement. Instead of painted walls, he found some truly awful paneling (which, I admit, I thought was purely beautiful when I was SEVEN) of the wallpaper veneer variety, and coupled it with the most atrocious, gawdawful bright red shag carpet. Not just any shag carpet, this stuff came in 18 inch squares with adhesive backing. Which he promptly stuck to the very nice clay tile floor already in place. It was mind-numbingly awful. Over the years, the basement flooded--not deep, devastating floods, but rather an inch here, two inches there. Enough to really soak the stick-on shag and the wallpaper-over-pressboard paneling. Over the years, the stick-on-shag took on a horrendous smell, and the paneling began to disintegrate slowly from the bottom up.
Mold.
Yes, the fancy black stuff you hear about so much in the news. Slowly eating its way through the paneling until the bottom six inches or so was just gone in some spots. The carpet was so horrifying we tried to pull it up (38 years after it went in!), but years of damp and mold left it coming up in tiny, half-inch chunks with the adhesive doing what adhesive does--adhering. Persistence only caused small shards of the original clay tile to come up, still stuck to the shag. We wound up having to use a pavement scraper to take it all up, clay tile and all. We wouldn't have bothered, but the MUSHROOMS growing up out of my Mom's basement floor in that room was just more than we could bear.
I think this experience is what has given me such an aversion to bad paneling. I don't hate ALL paneling. Heck, I love a good example of Judge's paneling or other wainscoting. But the cheap, comes in sheets, pre-fab, and especially wallpaper-veneered varieties? I can smell the mold and see the ugly--they're indelibly stamped in my poor head.
Really, that's what it is. They don't give two squirts about me.
My family stands to lose around six to seven hundred dollars a month if those idjits don't get their collective act together. That is a devastating hit. Like a "can't recover from that" hit. But they're so busy politicking for their rich friends and their "corporation people" (because corporations are, after all, people, remember?) that they'll let me and mine sink rather than make those rich folks pay a bigger percentage than I do.
Yes, that does make me hate them. Being held hostage by bought politicians inspires that in me.
Found an amazing, astounding house in Alexandria. If we were bought politicians or "corporation people," we could afford it without blinking. But we're not, so it will never be anything more than a silly dream. But it's lovely. Here it is. It would put hubby so close to work! Hey, what's 3.8 million between friends, right? Now all I need is a friend who feels the same way!
Terribly windy out, and very cold. We're trying to save some money on the heat bill, but it's all I can do to resist cranking that furnace up. I am ice cold, and that wind is working its way in through those windows and doors, doubled and insulated though they are. It's just that strong a wind.
Woke up crying last night. Can't remember the dream, though. Had later dreams about swimming in this awful, dark pond with my ex-husband and a bunch of other Arabs. The women had the most amazing bathing suits, but I was just in jeans and a t-shirt. Hmm.
Speaking of Arabs, did you hear the one about the Saudi clerics threatening to pray for awful illnesses and such if the government doesn't stop its attempt to allow women more rights? Ew. Just ew. Talk about cheapening your faith and turning it into a bad joke. I have no problem with Arabs (was married to an Arab for almost nine years), and I have no problem with Islam (or at least no more problem with it than with any other religion), but I have a problem with oppressive fanaticism regardless of the faith that spawns it.
And speaking of oppressive fanaticism, how about those new Israeli housing settlements in Palestine? Nice, huh? No, no attempt to cause another blow up there, I'm sure. They're the GOOD guys, remember? Because, as we all know, the good guys take land, exile natives, and institute apartheid policies, and all the while they enjoy our support because--well, because they're the GOOD guys! Duh! Pretty sure the Bible telling us so helps with that.
And last, but certainly not least, can India maybe, finally decide that women are worth lifting up, worth saving? Because I gotta tell you, for a country that tries to forward itself as some sort of enlightened, technically advanced place, it sure does treat its women like dirt. Think it might be that whole oppressive religion thing? Maybe? Just a little bit? Hey, India? Grow the heck up.
Wow. That turned into a bit of a rant. Wasn't intended. I'm cold, and I want to go to Costco then go back to sleep.
And here's some really crappy paneling with a story:
Okay, first off, this is NOT how the room in question looks now. But this is how it looked way back when. See, my dad decided to create a bedroom for my sister down in our mostly unfinished basement. Instead of painted walls, he found some truly awful paneling (which, I admit, I thought was purely beautiful when I was SEVEN) of the wallpaper veneer variety, and coupled it with the most atrocious, gawdawful bright red shag carpet. Not just any shag carpet, this stuff came in 18 inch squares with adhesive backing. Which he promptly stuck to the very nice clay tile floor already in place. It was mind-numbingly awful. Over the years, the basement flooded--not deep, devastating floods, but rather an inch here, two inches there. Enough to really soak the stick-on shag and the wallpaper-over-pressboard paneling. Over the years, the stick-on-shag took on a horrendous smell, and the paneling began to disintegrate slowly from the bottom up.
Mold.
Yes, the fancy black stuff you hear about so much in the news. Slowly eating its way through the paneling until the bottom six inches or so was just gone in some spots. The carpet was so horrifying we tried to pull it up (38 years after it went in!), but years of damp and mold left it coming up in tiny, half-inch chunks with the adhesive doing what adhesive does--adhering. Persistence only caused small shards of the original clay tile to come up, still stuck to the shag. We wound up having to use a pavement scraper to take it all up, clay tile and all. We wouldn't have bothered, but the MUSHROOMS growing up out of my Mom's basement floor in that room was just more than we could bear.
I think this experience is what has given me such an aversion to bad paneling. I don't hate ALL paneling. Heck, I love a good example of Judge's paneling or other wainscoting. But the cheap, comes in sheets, pre-fab, and especially wallpaper-veneered varieties? I can smell the mold and see the ugly--they're indelibly stamped in my poor head.
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| Not our mold, just a representative of the species. |
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