I’m a fly-killing ninja. I’ve developed my mad skills probably through my hatred of flies. Ew. And annoying. They are both ew and annoying. The secret is to put your hands slowly on either side of the landed fly. Then clap your hands together suddenly. Immediately followed by a thorough hand washing.
I habitually drive right at or a few miles over the speed limit. And I’m a ten-and-two hand position kind of driver. So maybe I’m just not wired with the need for speed, but I do NOT understand drivers who zoom past…just to be the car directly in front of me at the stoplight. Was it satisfying to get to that stoplight faster and have to sit there waiting for longer?
I measure distance in stoplights. Theory: this comes from growing up in the country and living in towns that have zero stoplights. I live seven stoplights away from work. This equates to 4.5 miles. Or 8-12 minutes, depending on the timing of those 7 stoplights. Not a bad commute.
Update on the new house:
I set the burglar alarm off on Saturday. That was awesome. Probably even more awesome for the neighbor who lives right spankin’ next to the blaring siren and the flashing strobe light.
The cats are settling into their new castle quite well. Even the stairs:
Yep. Everyone is handling the stairs quite well. Except me about an hour ago when I slipped in my socks. I was the picture of grace and dignity as my traitorous feet rebelled against my legs. I
shrieked sang like an angel, grasped placed my hands lightly on the banister, and somehow managed to keep my tush off the floor as I took three stairs at once.
Kevin had a dinner function tonight so I pulled together some provisions and came up with this:
Kiki was intrigued.
And that’s the night.
Tell me something random. Have you ever set off the alarm or tripped down the stairs?