Love, loss and other crap that is under my bed

Published March 29, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Anyone who knows me knows that I have certain traits gleaned from my parents. My quirky sense of humor and need to sing weird bits of song I got from my father. (I also got my big rib cage and thick, peasant like haunches from him too, but the polite thing is not to mention it.)  From my mother, I got the defiant tilt of my chin and the stubborn streak that forbids me from refusing a dare. (I also got her short stature and her need to obsess, but that’s in the polite-don’t-mention-it category.)

Both of my parents are extremely tidy organized people.

Guess what I didn’t get?

Since the departure of EH, I have managed to turn my entire house into something that resembles a rummage sale at a half-way house. (It smells much better; I don’t smoke and I use Febreeze like I have stock in the company.)

I try to stay on top of the major messes, like keeping the dishes clean and the toilets scrubbed.

The rest of the house is a free for fall, unless I lose something, then I clean until I find it.

I have an active link, it’s like a fit-bit  but it’s linked with Weight Watchers.  I wear it all the time, even at night and only take it off when I shower.

Sometime last night, it escaped.

I have been tidying around and I still haven’t found it.

I found the lid to a Vick’s Vapo-rub jar that has been missing since last cold and flu season. (The jar is long gone.)

I found the stretch things that you can use to stylishly taper your over-sized blouses so your huge rib cage doesn’t make you look like your are smuggling a Frigidaire out of the Sears Outlet. (Once again, polite not to mention it.)

There are a number of socks clustered like co-conspirators at the foot of the bed.

Guess what I haven’t found?

I’m hoping I find it before I have to vacuum.

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