where the writers are
O Monday! My Monday!
"...a fascinating period of American history...glittering, pre-WWI New York, then crosses the continent to...the still-dusty Hollywood of the Roaring '20s." -- reader review
Life in these United States

Most times Mondays roll around and I'm just happy as a clam, not caring that it has so many sort of "reluctant" connotations. (Meaning, I guess, that a lot of people are often reluctant to face Mondays.) Since I don't work "a regular job" I am frequently experiencing Monday as part of a 3-day weekend, or as a day that I have to dash out to a client's and do some work for 2 or 3 hours. Nothing at all unbreable about that, is there?

But today I awoke feeling sad, feeling a little overwhelmed, feeling worn down. Part of it is b/c Bill's final week here begins today -- he's leaving first thing next Tuesday morning -- and I can't believe how quickly his visit here has flown.

Part of it is that the constant heat/humidity/thunderstorms have made my yard and my gardens a verdant overgrown disaster that my lawncare guy cannot keep up with. (For a small house in suburbia, my yard and gardens are very misleading; they are abundant and they go on forever and require an amazing amount of attention even in less hot & humid summers.)

And part of it is that I'm locked into this contract with Orkin for pest control b/c of the carpenter ant invasion in June, and while I don't really want to live in some sort of pristine, sterile, bug-free world, I am paying through the nose on this contract and many bugs are continuing to live full and happy lives all around my house. For instance, a centipede (always a happy sight) dashed under the mat when I picked up the cats' water bowl to go fill it at 6 AM. A spider was contentedly sitting in its brand new web, a web connecting the spout of the watering can to the bistro table top, when I practically set my cereal bowl right in the middle of the web, thinking I would sit at the bistro table and look out at the incredibly sunny morning while I ate my breakfast. (Not wanting to distrub the spider, I, of course, then went and ate my breakfast outdoors. What's wrong with this picture? Shouldn't the spider be the one eating outside??? Well, I moved him after I finished eating.) Then yesterday, while pruning the miraculously beautiful petunia hanging next to my front door, I noticed that a winged creature -- probably a beetle of some type b/c it didn't look like any kind of  wasp or bee I'd ever seen -- kept flying in and out of a little hole in one of the shingles of my house. "Busy as a bee," as it were, and yet not entirely looking like a bee. "This can't be good," I said to Bill. And, wisely, he concurred.

The nice thing about paying through the nose for the contract with the Orkin guy is that he is always coming out to kill things. So I guess I will point out this little hole on his next trip and let the genocide continue...

These things wear on me, gang, even though I actually like the Orkin guy. He's just a guy with a family, trying to make it in the world just like me (or us, if I may be so bold as to include you, gentle readers, in the wide net I throw). Last time, he said, "I'm going to take my kid to the lake over the weekend" and that sounded so nice, you know?  "Oh, wow, have fun!!" I said, in my usual gung-ho happy enthusiastic way; wishing, for a moment, that this guy who's young enough to be my son were in fact old enough to be my dad instead and was taking me along to the lake with them. (I'm always just assuming that other people's lives are unfolding within Norman Rockwell paintings, while mine always resembles more a painting by Edvard Munch.)

We're all just trying to find our footing as this insane economy nose-dives and the gang in Washington give Jon Stewart nothing but one long line of sitting ducks to pick off (or "easy targets for satire" for those of you who speak English as a second language). All that and other stuff that I won't even detail for now -- I guess it all just fell on me when my eyes opened this morning.

I'm working on getting my gung-ho happy enthusiasm back, though. Coffee is helping. The sound of the wind blowing through the wind chimes out back is also helping. And, of course, Bill is helping -- he has tons of ideas about how to focus on happier stuff and they work. (Which is why I'm not in a hurry for him to leave next week!)

All right, gang. That's it for Monday. I hope you are having an okay one wherever you are. Thanks for visiting!!

[I leave you with this link if you need something to marvel at while you take your coffee break...]

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Your comments about your bug

Your comments about your bug man had me cracking up. I have had the same exterminator for 13 years. In Florida you have two choices: de-bug or be bugged!

My guy is like a member of the family. He always asks about each kid, and we talk about everything from the weather to politics, to sharing recipes.

I hope your Monday was a good one.


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Yes, Monday wound up being okay! Thanks!

I cannot imagine living in Florida. Between the humidity and the bugs there -- wow. Were you born and raised there? I'm guessing you must be used to it all by now?