Less is more

Over the last two weeks, each of the fire detectors in this house has gone off at least once. The batteries have all been changed, yet they continue to remind us that they are there. I blame it on the house ghost. His name is Frank. We will talk about him later.

The fire detectors have gone off enough times to no longer faze me at all. The little fire detector who cried wolf would make a great children's story. Noted. Ok, anyway, the constant reminder of the fact that this place could burn down at any moment has lead me to think about which things I would instinctively grab if such a thing were to occur. It also lead me to think about which things I wouldn't even realize were missing. I'm sure that most of you thought about this at least once in your life. The alarms were simply a helpful refresher course. 

This lead me to decide that less is more. What...a...shocker....! I was raised around multiple hoarders. That may also be part of the reason that I have swung in the opposite direction. Why do I own 5 pairs of pajamas when I sleep in my birthday suit? Because traditionally, until I was 18 years old, all the kids on my moms side of the family were given pajamas on Christmas Eve to wear for a family picture on the stairs. Why have I kept them? Because I still fit in them, they are in great condition, and they are comfortable for lounging around the house in. But what do I actually wear when I'm lounging around the house? My yoga pants and a hoody. Moral of the story? Less is more!

Ok, so back to the house ghost. Frank has apparently been around since before my parents moved into this house. Apparently one morning, while taking a shower, mom noticed her robe hanging in mid air. She freaked out and wanted to move. Dad told her that she could leave, but he was staying. So there they stayed. Even some of my other family members have noticed Frank in action. Hearing footsteps when everyone else is asleep, putting empty bottles back in the fridge with hair ties around them, and a bunch of other random things. I don't remember who, but someone did some research on who used to live in this 100+ year old house and found out that a guy named Frank lived and died there and that the previous homeowner knew all about him as well. To any family members reading this, correct me if I'm wrong. I tend to think I remember things that never actually happened. Or I remember stories, but retell them completely wrong. 

The roses of success

Last weekend, I helped my cousin and her boyfriend move into their new abode. All I can say after helping them is that the process of moving is not at all satisfying. Walking into a cluttered storage shed was almost as stressful as walking into my grandmothers home. The result of moving however, is a priceless reward. I couldn't be happier for the two of them, and I was glad that I could be of assistance. It was the least I could do after all the things that they have done for me.  The weather last week was damn near perfect for moving too...until it rained at the end of the night. I think it was mother natures way of telling us all to take a chill pill after a hard days work.

Speaking of my grandmother; I wheeled her to her 2nd to last doctor appointment on Thursday. Beautiful news on a beautiful day. No more mittens, no more hats, no more street salt clogging up her wheels, no more gauze to cover up wounds! This may not sound like big news; but she has been in and out of the hospital at least twice a month since last May for wound therapy and cancer treatment. By every bursted bubble has a glory. Each abysmal failure makes a point. Every glowing path that goes astray, shows you how to find a better way. So every time you stumble never grumble. Next time you'll bumble even less. For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!

The very same cousin who I helped move this weekend, won free tickets to the Skyline Comedy Cafe. She invited me and a few other friends to come along. To get in, you must be 18 years or older. You also must buy at least 2 drinks during the show. For the first time since my drivers temps expired on January 20th of this year, someone had brought it up to me. He asked me if I had any other form of identification. I did not. Then before asking me, he grabbed my hand and drew a giant X on it so that I would not order alcohol. I don't know what bothered me more; the symbolism, the reminder that I still haven't received a drivers license and am now going to give in and purchase a state ID, the fact that it was only 3 months expired, or the fact that he didn't ask me first. He is lucky I didn't have an allergic reaction to that marker, or that I didn't have a job interview or anything of equal importance coming up the next day. As a matter of fact, I spent a good half hour scrubbing that X off of my hand when I got home until my hand was red, raw, and sore. I just walked away from the man in a shock that escalated to me full fledged in tears in the bathroom. Once I calmed myself down, I truly did enjoy the performance. I would like to thank my cousin once again publically for calming me down that night and for offering to bring me to the DMV this week to prevent similar instances from ever happening again.

On a much happier note... below is a brief list other random happenings, in no particular order.

The friend of mine that apologized to me in my previous post has been quite a pleasure to reconnect with.

The radio stations changed for the better on our satellite dish. The best station of all is called The Playground. I had no idea Wayne Brady sang so many childrens songs. Also, if you have never heard the song Try It, You'll Like It by Yo Gabba Gabba, I challenge you to listen to it now and not feel like a pedofile at the same time.

I  received a cute thank you card with a handwritten message from my dermatologist. Also, my TMJ specialist told me that I am his favorite patient. Every week, he offers me a treat from his pocket. It sounds weird, because it is. Ha! But this week, he offered me and his assistant a bag of nuts, assuming one of us would turn it down. When we both agreed to eat them, he said "that was rude of me to offer one bag to two of you. I will run to the gas station next door and buy another bag". Hahaha what the heck? I obviously did not let him do that, but that is sincere proof that he is either genuine, nuts, or both. Forgive me for that horrible pun.