VaCaTiOn!

From the way I feel today, I must have had more fun than I remember on our vacation.

And I don’t drink.

Whoo, boy, I am pooped beyond belief. I feel like I been sittin’ up all night at the funeral home.

And I have a question. I hope you can solve the mystery: Why did I bring more dirty laundry home than clean laundry that I actually took? Where did it all come from? I know – that’s two questions – but this mystery is big enough for two questions, and I need to know.

We had a good time, though. We were in Pigeon Forge, Tenn. We went to the Dixie Stampede, or as they are now calling it most the time, Dolly Parton’s Stampede. Some store clerk was grousing about the change in the name, saying some !?!#* Yankee protested about the word “Dixie” saying it was "racist". Apparently they made a big old stink and the Stampede caved and changed the name. If that’s so, it’s a shame. We are in the land of Dixie. At any rate, the show was great, the food is really good and audience participation is near 100%.

We also went to The Comedy Barn. They live up to their name. Think “The Ed Sullivan Show in Overalls” and you have The Comedy Barn. I really did laugh till my sides hurt.

We went to a place called “Parrot Mountain”. Thousands of tropical birds live there: Parrots of all kinds. They have a baby bird store, and one Amazon Parrot

attached itself to me and would not leave me. Now, you may ask if I purchased him. The answer is no, because of a certain 22 pound Maine Coon cat who is very possessive of me. But I felt guilty when we left the store. There were also Lorys, which is a kind of small parrot that only drink nectar. They hadn’t been fed in a few hours, and they flogged us when we walked in the enclosure. I had ten birds on me in about 2 seconds flat. I didn’t even have the nectar, Daughter was holding the cup, but they like people a lot, so they stayed on me anyway.

Husband felt left out, but finally a few landed on him and started licking his arms. We figured for the salt.

 

We heard the birds talk: “Thank you” after I fed a Macaw, “Hello” when we entered their enclosure to feed them

and one Cockatoo told Daughter “I love you”. She was very touched. She went back over to him later and got him to say it again, which she videoed.

The shop keeper of the baby bird store told us a story. She was adamant that it was true.

Apparently they had a Macaw that refused to talk. They worked with him just like they did with the others, but he would never utter a word. One day someone brought in a service dog and somehow the bird agitated this dog. The dog jumped up and drug the bird down to the ground and was on top of the bird. People got the dog off the bird, and the first thing that happened after that was the bird yelled, “Praise the Lord!”  Don’t much blame him.

They also have a Hornbill bird that came from the Hugh Hefner estate. Apparently, when Hefner died he did not leave any directives regarding the bird. Someone who worked there made a mysterious phone call to this place and told them the bird was going to be put down, could they take it? They said yes, of course. The bird was delivered anonymously to them.

We ate way too much. And then we ate more.

We went into a couple of shops. One was the Mountain Cat House. They have three cats roaming the place, and as much knick knack stuff and tee shirt cat related stuff, etc. as you can imagine.

We also visited “Long Story Short Books and Antiques”. It’s the kind of place that you love almost everything in it, and you can look six times and on the seventh look see stuff you missed before. I bought my one souvenir from the trip in this shop. So did Husband.  

  Husband and Daughter went out on their own to play put-put golf. I sat this one out and stayed at the hotel to regroup.

By the time we got back home, we were pooped.

I was not ready to do laundry. But I did the next day and the next and believe it or not, the next.

Granted, some of that was towels and wash clothes and stuff that needed doing before we left, and sheets. But still…

Where does it all come from?

Pardon Me

I am in a food coma.

Yankee Cousin said "I want to cook dinner."

I said "Okay".  I'm not stupid, you know.

I felt a little guilty because she's in there cooking and I'm not, and I am the one who always is...

Anyway, I did some laundry, made a phone call, etc.

Then the food was ready; we ate like hogs.

Although we forced ourselves to clean up the kitchen, it was extremely difficult. Sorta like running through water that is up to your neck.

Got her done, though.

But I am barely functioning.

Need a nap. Too late in the day to do so....

I'm in  a food coma, sitting upright.

The Unseen Enemy

There are three unexplainable events that go on continuously in our home:

1. We have enough dirty laundry for at least six people. All the time. Even though I am chained to the washer and dryer daily.

2. We have enough trash in EVERY available waste basket, trash can, etc., all the time. At least enough trash for a family of nine.

3. We have enough dirty dishes to fill both dishwashers, both sinks, and possibly every available counter top in the kitchen every day. I do not own this many dishes. And I usually go to bed with a clean kitchen, left sparkling and pristine.

Who loathes me enough to do this?

What have I done to call down upon my head this misery of on-going torture?

What monster has the power of such onslaught, day after day after day?

Is our house haunted by a ghostly slob who revels in his (and it has to be a he, a female wouldn't be caught dead, pardon the pun, exhibiting such slovenly behavior) ability to rain havoc upon my cleanliness?

I am not even mentioning the way the bathrooms can sometimes look, or the thick layer of grime covering my furniture.

Where do I go for help? Who am I gonna call?

Ghost Dusters?