Tech Support

My daughter is now at a job where she is in charge of everything.  Basically her dream job managing an entire business.  My husband gets to be her 24-hour, online tech support.  I hear him on the phone with her periodically walking her through IT questions.  She sent this email to him last week:

Christina:             Does it look like it has 2 hard drives ?
Let me know if you need more pictures.

Here is my husband’s response:

Yes, it looks as if there are two hard drives. One may be the operating system and the other the data or used as a backup. In the third pic that shows the SATA interface, you can see the other hard drive below it. The other hard drive should have the same interface. Here is a link that I believe will fit:  Amazon link here

The pic below is the adapter on top of the hard drive you sent. You may want to look at the other hard drive interface to make sure it’s the same and then take the one that is out to Best Buy to make sure you get the right connector cable.

image

I need to remind my daughter that I am still available to review grammar on any letters she needs to write.

 

 

 

 

 

A Lecture on Pop Tarts

Like everyone else, my husband and I are stuck at home during these difficult days.  The good news is that we are really getting along quite well despite all the togetherness.  We are sharing the computer (I sleep in until noon so my husband gets the mornings) and trying to get some home projects completed.  But we have had our share of issues:

  • Going out ANYWHERE is a Big. Deal.  Even if I do not get out of the car, I want to come.  So imagine my disappointment when my husband went to Kum and Go (our local 7-11 {not kidding}) for lottery tickets.  I whined for two hours.

Kum and Go logo

  • The bath mat argument:  When I get out of the shower, I always dry my feet before stepping out.  My husband does not.  So we spent 30 minutes discussing the pros and cons of a wet bath mat vs. a dry one after I had to step on his wet bath mat.  By the way, we have three bathrooms.
  • Gaining weight.  Damn quarantine.  Which leads me to:
  • Going to the store.  We usually do online shopping and then pick up.  But sometimes we go to the store.  When this happens, I am like a kid on Christmas day.  We get to shop!  We get to see things!  We get to go outside!  And I will admit I go a little crazy.  I know I really should not have gotten the pop tarts.  But I was hungry and they were staring at me in the cereal aisle.  Yes, I got the Pop Tart Lecture. But it was so worth it.
  • About toilet paper.  All I can say is when it was hard to find toilet paper, my husband actually showed me how many little squares I should use.  Yeah, not going to happen and my bathroom habits are confidential.
  • My husband’s hair is getting pretty long as he won’t go to get it cut.  I am really liking the little curls that are at the end. I could actually put it in a ponytail with my scrunchie the other day.  Of course, he hates it. And I was told I could not take a picture.  My other idea was to watch YouTube videos on how to cut hair and I could cut his hair and he could cut mine.  That didn’t happen, either.
  • Forget regular clocks.  I need one to tell which day of the week it is.  And yes, you can buy them.  This one is $45.99:dAY CLOCK
  • We got to celebrate Father’s Day by ourselves. Our kids asked me what their dad wanted for his special day.  I told them both he wanted Turtle candy.  Because I wanted Turtle candy.
  • With the quarantine there will either be a lot of babies or a lot of divorces.    We are too old for babies.  Not getting divorced.  So there must be a third option. Like keeping a posted schedule of when you want to be alone and where you will do it in the house. Or the deck.  At least we have a nice deck that overlooks our weed infested back yard.
  • Since all we do is ride in the car and maybe go through drive through, we get to listen to music on the radio.  My husband made a new rule. You are not allowed to sing the song if you do not know the words.  I do know the words.  They are “Dirty Deeds and the Thunder Cheeks “
  • I have never been so pissed off when I run out of underwear and comfy house-only clothes.  Not working means I should not have to do laundry – Ever.

LWL Week in Pictures

Garage Knife

I had to get my collapsible yard work bag down from a high shelf in the garage.  Another lecture on yard work safety. (My response that that one should not leave a big ass knife in the garage).  I am getting pretty damn good at picking up sticks.  Can make the task last over three (3) hours to avoid:

Weeds

I think we missed the seasonal period to remove the weeds from our flower beds.  Or I am officially the worst weed picker ever.  Honestly, both probably apply.

Dads Shoe

New method to fix a broken shoe.  Take Gorilla glue, a coconut shell and old chair and do this. Or throw the 22 year old shoe away.  But I didn’t say that.

MPJ Beer Can

Came across this the other day.  My son has been gone for almost a year and it made me smile to realize he can no longer throw empty beer cans in my flower garden. Until he comes to visit in July.

Dude wipes

Where are the Dudette wipes?

Mailboxes

Stayed at a cabin in the Smokey Mountains and came across this on the way up the holler.  The Amazon package was there the entire week.

Personal Watermelon

Cuz, damn.  Sometimes you just don’t want to share.

Stay at Home = Yardwork

Like others, I am stuck at home with my husband.  I have heard that in 9 months time there will either be a baby or a divorce. I think our situation is a bit different.  The future of our home time together will most probably result in a damn good yard.

Here is a picture of our yard last summer:

Kincaid backyard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here is a current picture of our yard:

Yard

My husband bought this attachment for the lawn mower.  He calls it an aerator.  I call it a turd maker.  You tell me who is correct:

Yard 2

Then he said it needed more weight on the back to make bigger turds.  Turns out our decorative iron animals was not what he had in mind:
Yard 1

And don’t even let me get into yard safety.  I swear I put them there for just one minute while I ran into the house.

Yard Safety Might as well assume this is going to be an ongoing battle.  I watch the news only to hope that it is going to rain.  We cleaned out the shed on Monday.  With more weeding planned for later in the week.  The only thing I really want to do is take the ax and make firewood from our logs. Except my husband hid the ax.  Some safety issue he says. My son mentioned using the sledge  hammer and the iron wedge.  He so gets me.

Lines for Oddly Shaped Oriental Cookies

By Pseudonym – Victor Vega

So, I came across this original writing in my travels.  I absolutely loved it. I have more writings of Victor Vega but I think I will wait and see if he sends me an attorney letter to cease and desist before posting any thing else.

Your lack of love life stems from your inability to separate love and co-dependence.

You will soon embark on a business venture but ultimately end up with a dead hooker.

Stop wishing, start doing. (Excludes pedophiles, rapists, and murderers)

Life has a very dependable source of lemons.

You will be successful in love, as long as you lower your standards…like a lot.

Happiness comes from a fulfilling life, Xanax, and dissimulating your underlying faults.

That entire bottle of Jack Daniels isn’t going to drink itself.

Everyone thinks your poetry is shit.

Who put Tarantino in charge of the police state?

You think you’re Hemingway but you’re more Fitzgerald.

Bukowski was right.

A few drinks with Bill Cosby and who knows, maybe something will happen.

A chance encounter opens up new doors to social anxiety and lying about your current state of affairs.

You have a deep appreciation for the calves of women between the ages of 40 and 50 years old.

It’s election time, and we’re all fucked.

And finally:

Stop taking life advice from stale cookies.

 

 

Mom Alarm Clock

Even though my son has moved to a city five states away from me, I can still get him moving in the morning.  Besides, he shouldn’t ask for my assistance in getting him up the night before if he really didn’t mean it:

text 1

text 2

 

Follow the Rules if you are Going to Use the Office

I have been using our home office a lot lately.  I have various projects I am working on and always enjoy pursuing the Internet for interesting and entertaining news, advice columns, comics and Craigslist ads which I admit is my guilty entertainment.  California ads are the weirdest.

But I guess my husband is not very happy that I am in his our office so much.  Over the past several weeks, I have had the following rules explained to me:

  • No eating in the office.
  • No empty cups or glasses allowed.  You are allowed to drink but must remove them once empty.
  • Especially no disposing of food items in the office wastebasket.  Only paper is allowed.
  • He would prefer I do not use the heater because the room should be kept cool.  But he knows he would be unreasonable so he struggles with this one.  Except for the time when I didn’t put the heater away and he tripped on it.  THAT was a super long lecture.
  • No paper towels or napkins can be left on top of the desk.
  • No lilac scented candles.  (I reminded him he got it for me for Christmas but he still said no).
  • I have a drawer in the desk.  Any papers that I have need to be placed in the drawer prior to leaving.
  • I have to shut down the computer when I leave.  Even if for an hour.  And don’t forget to turn off the monitor as well.
  • OMG!  DO NOT place ANY sticky notes on the PC!  EVER!  Evidently this is grounds for losing computer privileges.

Being the understanding wife who listens so well, I respond accordingly:

desk

I do eat in the office.  But only when my husband is not at home.  And while I do throw food away in the office trash can, I do cover it up with paper so it isn’t noticeable. I have no idea why this is an issue.  My husband rarely if ever empties the trash can.  That’s my job. candle

 

 

 

Whenever he walks into the office and accuses me of having my scented candle in there, I tell him I don’t smell anything and offer to spray the horrible air freshener that I know he hates.

Office heater I will agree that the heater precariously perched on top of the waste basket (that contains food) is not ideal. But I got tired of moving my favorite heater from the living room to the office every day.  I did apologize that he tripped over it and have been more careful about putting it away. Bu I refuse to unplug it every time which is still an issue.

PC NotesThe sticky notes on the PC really isn’t a deal breaker for me.  Sometimes I leave one that says “I love you” just because I know it would be hard to bitch about a sticky love note but am pacing myself.  It’s really hard not to write one that says: ” Take $1,768 from bank to pay court bill.”

So I think we have come to a truce.  I open my little desk drawer, swipe everything off the desk into it and shut the drawer.  When he starts complaining about the smell I am sure I will get a new lecture.

A $21.00 Ass and the Stolen Bathroom Scale

A $21.00 ASS

My husband and I recently went to the casino.  It was a tiny one in a large warehouse. When I asked if there was somewhere to get food, I was directed to the convenience store next door that had 3 tables and many varieties of fried liver. I am not really into gambling but I do like some of the slot machines.  I came across one that I wanted to play just for its content value for my blog.  So $21.00 dollars later I finally got what I wanted. The letters spelled out A-S-S.  Yes!  $21.00 at 50 cents a swipe means I pushed the damn button 42 times.  All I wanted was the word “Ass.”  Not “Sass,” not “As,” but “Ass.”  I am sure those around me thought I had won a shit ton of money as excited as I was to FINALLY see the word “ASS” come up.  If nothing else, I am pretty sure I amused the hell out of the guy sitting next to me.  Got my Ass, took the picture and left.  I won.

Ass Slot

 

A STOLEN BATHROOM SCALE

I am not sure how this actually happened, but somehow our bathroom scale was stolen.  Because we always kept it in the cabinet below the sink in the master bathroom and now it is no where to be found. I have no idea how long because I just assumed my husband had moved it and he assumed I had (because who really weighs themselves on a regular basis, right?) but when we finally asked each other where it was, no one knew.

I will confess that I was most probably the last person who touched it.  I did try to weigh myself and it didn’t work so I took out the battery and put it in my purse to replace it next time I went to the store. It took me four months to remember to buy the damn battery.  Two months after that, I found it sitting on the counter in the kitchen and moved it to the bathroom counter.  One month after that I pulled out the scale and replaced the battery and then…Pooof.  Missing.  Gone.  I’m not even sure I weighed myself after I got it working again (I’m sure that if I did, I had lost 10 pounds).  Once my husband found out I had lost the bathroom scale, he was a man on a mission.  He went to every bathroom and every closet.  Even got the flashlight and looked under the bed.  I was helpful.  I asked my dog, Abbey, if she had seen it.  Or maybe remembered what I did with it. She was of no help. So now our scale is missing and it is driving us crazy to know what happened to it.  I think someone broke in and stole it.  There really is no other explanation.  And damn, now I really want to weigh myself.

LWL Musings #70

  • I wasn’t planning on taking a shower on Saturday until I stood next to my husband and he told me I was stinky.
  • Morning Prayer to God:  Please help me to be more healthful in 2020. Well, except for the eight pieces of fudge that I know you know I put in my lunchbox this morning. But I swear I am only going to eat the nuts. Okay, please start helping me tomorrow. Amen.
  • I answered my husband’s cell phone when my daughter called him. I tried to be funny and made my voice sound like a guy so she would totally think she was talking to her dad. Note to self:  Do not do that again. It just freaked her out: “Mom! what is wrong with you!?”
  • We had game night last month with our daughter and her boyfriend. We played “Head’s Up” using the app on her phone. The words were all hard. We found animals to be the easiest but in hindsight, maybe it was because we were drinking Tequila. We were on the “Movies” category and my husband had the phone and I had to describe it. The name of the movie was “Godzilla” so I immediately starting talking about the tall building and the ape and the planes and my daughter told me I had the wrong movie. Which I totally denied and then my husband immediately guessed “Godzilla” correctly. And THAT is what 34 years of marriage looks like!
  • I spilled marshmallows on the carpet in my office and then inadvertently ground them into the carpet with my rollie chair.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to get smashed marshmallows out of carpet?
  • I guess there is this new rule where you no longer need to have two spaces after the period of sentences. Except that is what I have been doing for years. I just can’t stop the habit and now have to remember to go back and remove the extra space. This is so irritating. Who decides the rules?
  • I told my husband I was going to make my Golden Retriever, Abbey, a service dog. He said, “How can she be a service dog? She only has one eye.” I guess she will have to be my one-eyed emotional service dog.  If only I could get her to quit begging for food.

I am a Bad Patient

And I know I am a bad patient because my husband told me so. And the reason he knows is because he is the one who gets yelled at by the doctor after every procedure I have ever had done. It is so convenient that I am always still under the effects of anesthesia when this happens.

So the latest experience was when I had to have cataracts removed from both eyes and special toric lenses inserted so I no longer need glasses. I wasn’t thrilled with this – in fact, I was rather pissed because I feel like I am way too young to have cataracts. (By the looks of the waiting room, I am correct in this assumption). My doctor told me he is seeing more and more younger people needing cataract surgery due to working in front of a computer all day. That may be so, but I am not on Medicare; therefore, I should not need this stupid surgery. The fact that my husband would no longer ride with me when I drove at night was not related.

When I started the pre-appointments, I immediately told the doctor that I had a super big issue with anyone messing with my eyes.  I mean, I can mess with my eyes but no one else can. To which he responded, “Yes, you and 70% of everyone.  Don’t worry, you will be sedated and won’t even remember.”  (Words he would come to regret).

After a million tests and signed papers and money, my surgery day finally came.  Anxious was not the word for it. My anxiety was at an all time high. It is a bit like cattle herding.  Go here, get the pretty blue bonnet and booties.  Go here and get eye drops.  Go here get labeled.  Get more eye drops. Go sit in the big chair and get more eye drops and an IV.  By the time I was On Deck I was totally freaking out.  When Jim, the anesthesiologist, came to speak to me I clearly conveyed my concerns to him. I was again reassured that “it’s nothing and will be over in 10 minutes- 15 minutes tops.”

Then I get rolled into the room.  Just imagine my sense of being as I am transitioned under the laser and a nurse saying, “I just need to make these four marks directly on your eye with this marker.  Don’t worry, you won’t feel it.”

Well, worry I did.  And I said so.  And then they did something else and I remember clearly stating, “I CAN FEEL THAT!” and I don’t remember anything much after that but according to my husband, the doctor said I would not shut up.  He said the doctor was so pissed at me that he didn’t even introduce himself but just started right in about how  horrible I was.  That I complained of pain when there clearly was not any and that they had to give me THE HIGHEST dosage of sedation medication just to finish the procedure. He completed this conversation by saying that maybe we should consider going to the hospital and being totally sedated for the other eye.

My husband was not happy with me on the way home.  So I took these really  cool selfies of my left eye being hugely dilated and messaged them to everyone telling them I took drugs and they only half worked.

A week later I am scheduled for the right eye.  This time going in I was smarter and took a Valium.  And had another one in my pocket just in case. So I was pretty happy and relaxed this time. Plus I knew what to expect.  I was the very first patient (obviously scheduled that way to get me the hell in and out).  As the marker came and the laser positioned, I heard the doctor remark about how much better I was.  Then I heard Jim reply, “She took a Valium.” This time my husband said my doctor was very happy with me.

I was supposed to wear sunglasses on the way home and my husband forgot my purse was in the trunk.  Taking advantage of an opportunity to be irritating and not get in trouble, I proceeded to put the car throw over my head and then make various bomb noises and blow up myself underneath all the way home.  Well, except for the time my husband got out to buy alcohol.

So I had successful surgery on both eyes with very positive results. I still find myself going into the bathroom at night to remove my contacts and then realizing I don’t need them anymore. I am just not ready to throw them out yet. After almost 45 years it is a very hard habit to break. I am thinking about taking all my contact lens stuff and glasses and having a little impromptu memorial ceremony by the garbage can.  I can pretend to blow them up.