Sorry. Not sorry.

Well, this is a sorry state of affairs. I am in an all too familiar spot. It’s been ages since I published a post. Do I have excuses? Yes. Are they good ones? Some. Does anyone really care? Probably not.

I’m not just being self-deprecating here. I don’t have many followers. A handful of people read my stuff, and some of them are kind enough to hit like or leave a comment. If I were to go away for good, something might someday jog your memory and bring to mind one of my posts, but would you miss me? Hardly.

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There are bloggers I’ve followed who seem to have packed up and left WordPress. Or maybe they’re out there in some new iteration that I haven’t discovered yet. If they resurface*, I’m glad to see them back, but they don’t owe me an apology. I’m not gazing at my screen, arms crossed saying “Well, well, well. Look who’s come crawling back. Just what do you have to say for yourself? This better be good!”

Most of us here on WordPress are doing it for the fun of it; for the practice of it; for the catharsis of it; for the whatever-the-hell our reason is for it. We’re not getting paid, and we’re beholden to no one.

And still, many of us feel the need to explain why we haven’t posted in a while.

Your day job has hit a rough patch (my 14 tax seasons at a CPA’s office qualify). Your three kids are in three different schools with activities out the wazoo. You’re in the middle of senior finals. You’re busy attending all the Kardashian baby showers. More than one blogger I follow is busy publishing a book. (P.S. I hate you. P.P.S. No, I don’t! I envy you! Please be my friend so some of that inspiration and creativity will rub off!) Heck, even if the biggest item on your calendar is rearranging your sock drawer and you can’t find it in yourself to post, guess what? It’s really ok.

sorry

 

I myself have been a serial apologizer most of my life. I have been known to say “sorry” to people who hit me with their grocery carts, or to start out confrontations saying “I’m sorry, but you really hurt my feelings.” So, if you feel the need to apologize, go ahead. I can relate. I will listen, sympathize, and give you absolution if that’s what you want

But, of all the things we have to be sorry about, not posting on our own, unpaid, just-for-the-hell-of-it blogs should not be one of them. I’m not doing it anymore, and neither should you!

Here are some people who really should be apologizing:

  • Bullies and internet trolls.
  • Anyone who sexually harasses anyone else.
  • People who litter.
  • That client who’s been ghosting me for the last two months, after making me think I’d be getting regular writing assignments.
  • Whoever designs public restrooms without hooks for your coat and purse.
  • People who take up two parking spots.
  • The makers of the GMC commercial with the weird looking little kid and the annoying “Me and You” song.
  • Companies that make you go through four different screens just to unsubscribe from their stupid emails.
  • Whoever keeps shrinking “fun size” candy bars.
  • The guy having a loud phone conversation in this coffee shop. Scratch that – he just got up to buy 4 servicemen from the nearby air force base their coffee. Dammit, now I’m sorry for not offering to do that myself.

We’re all human. There will always be something to feel sorry for. Save your apologies for the big stuff.

Now go and write something. Or don’t. Either way, you’re forgiven.

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Yes. Yes, you will. And that’s perfectly fine.

 

*Note: I started writing this post yesterday and set it aside to edit today. Overnight, I saw that one of the first blogger/poets I followed posted after an absence of nearly years! First of all, I’m wondering “what are the odds?!”

Second, did he apologize? Hell no! A post published a few days earlier (and that I somehow missed) was a story of someone entering a bar after a long absence. Brilliant!

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A Day Late and a Million Dollars Short

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In response to the Daily Prompt from the WordPress Daily Post site: “Genius”, here is something I wrote awhile back…

How many times have you seen a product and said to yourself “why didn’t I think of that?” Even more frustrating is having an idea that someone else brings to reality later on. You can tell all your friends that you thought of it first, but of course no one will believe you. Continue reading

Family Sayings, or Idioms for Idiots

 

Last week, I was reading a post by one of my favorite bloggers, Pam at Catching My Drift. Read her blog for her beautifully lyrical take on life. She wrote about the origin of phrases, and in particular, the saying “staying until the last dog dies.”

I was surprised that I had never heard that saying before. When I was growing up, expressions like this were tossed around by my parents – especially Mom – on a regular basis.

My family is a brood of goofballs, with a rich history of silliness and sarcasm. My Mom had a sharp, irreverent wit. I can picture the little smirk on her lips when she’d pull one of the saltier maxims out of her repertoire. Reflecting on her favorite sayings, she cussed more than I realized.

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There’s that mischievous look! If there was something funny to say, you could count on Mom to say it.

Thanks to Pam, I’m now curious about where some of these phrases come from. I’ve got some research to do.

Here are some of my favorites, brought to you by fond memories of my cheeky Mom: Continue reading

Hemorrhoidal Tendencies: The Laundry Edition

Welcome to Hemorrhoidal Tendencies, the occasional feature of my blog where I complain about the things in this world that are a pain in the ass. 

Don’t let the name of my blog fool you. I did not get the nickname “Maid” because of my love of housework. Like most normal humans, I would rather do just about anything else. There is one chore I don’t mind though, and that’s laundry. In fact, I kind of enjoy it.

Once I finally grew up into an actual bona fide adult and got my own washer and dryer, my relationship with the wash improved. No more creepy apartment building laundry dungeons or equally creepy laundromats. Yippee!

 

I find doing the wash soothing and satisfying. If that makes me a weirdo, so be it. I love having everything clean and fresh smelling; folded and put away. I love it when I can wash every single item of dirty clothing except the clothes on my back. If I could convince Mr. Maid that we should adopt Naked Laundry Day in our house, I could get ALL the laundry done for once. The idea of having a house completely free of any dirty clothes – well – that would be a dream come true! Continue reading

The Autumn of My Discontent

After reading Molly’s latest post on her blog Shallow Reflections, (check it out – it never fails to entertain,) I realized it’s time to re-post this little bit of fiction. The time comes around earlier every year. Enjoy!


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The interrogation room is cold. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that they do that on purpose – anything to make you feel uncomfortable. The temperature, the buzzing florescent lights, and the hard metal chair are all doing their jobs and filling me with unease and a sense of impending doom.

I’ve been sitting here for what seems like hours (another time-honored technique, I’m sure) and have had time to reflect about the last 48 hours. Jeff told me I had to be careful. He had tried to talk me out of it. “Can’t you just go along to get along?” he asked.

“I’ve had it!” I had answered. “I can’t just sit back and watch while the powers-that-be do this to innocent people. Continue reading

Preparing for the Solar Apocalypse

There’s nothing like a natural phenomenon to get people all riled up. In case you haven’t heard, certain parts of the United States are going to experience a total solar eclipse on August 21st, and everyone around here is going bat shit crazy.

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Image from Discovery Center at Murfree Spring

Don’t get me wrong, it is kind of exciting. It’s being billed as a “once in a lifetime” kind of thing. For various sciency reasons that I won’t get into here, (click here or here if you want to learn more), this hasn’t happened in the lower 48 states since 1979, and won’t happen again until 2024. But here’s the kicker – it will never be in the same place again.

And that place, this time, is pretty much right in my backyard. Continue reading

Aspiring Not to Aspirate

I’m not generally a hypochondriac, but as I’ve gotten older, I have my share of moments when what’s going on in my body scares me. It’s like staying in a haunted house. Every creak, every sensation makes me stop in my tracks and listen. It could just be the old house settling on its foundation. Then again, it could be something malevolent intent on doing me in. Ah, the joys of aging!

Knowing me, however, my demise is more likely to come from doing something really stupid.

Last Thursday night, Mr. Maid and I were eating dinner. It was one of my ordinary weeknight menus of spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread.

easy spaghetti

In defiance to all rules of etiquette, I was chewing a big mouthful of pasta while simultaneously trying to talk. I can’t remember what I was saying, but it was making me also start to laugh. The combination of chewing, swallowing, talking, and laughing was apparently a little more multitasking than my brain and body could handle. As the phrase goes, my food went “down the wrong pipe.” Continue reading