Old Goats Wife

I've been hobbling around for a week and a half with this foolish looking boot on my surgically impaired foot. It's big, clunky and quite noticeable. The fact that I walk like a drunken duck also plays into the scenario of - look at that poor woman.

The really odd and strange thing about this contraption on my left foot is the constant stream of comments. And the comments are so similar it's down right creepy. These are comments from total strangers, people you pass in the grocery store aisle, people holding open the door for you at the thrift store, the doctors receptionist and people in the waiting room of the dentists office.

The most frequent comment is - "You must have kicked him really hard." "What made you kick him?" "Did he deserve that kick?"

Is this a comment people would make to a man who is with a woman? "Did you kick her?" Is this comment a socially acceptable comment? Why does it seem okay to make a comment placing the blame on hubby? Sure, it seems funny but do they really think that? Is it just a conversation comment? How about - "Hello." And yes, I do think it's a bit funny when the comment is made. I laugh. Should I be laughing?

What are these people thinking about me? Do they really think I would kick my mate? Sometimes I feel like it. So, are they reading my mind? Perhaps I should wear my shirt in public that says - 'Old Goat's Wife.'

Don't Pee In The Pool

I feel like I'm turning into a Howard Hughes basket case. Germs, bacteria and other icky stuff has been on my mind a lot lately. I think it started with the swine flu that is no longer called the swine flu - it's now called numbers and letters of which I don't remember. They changed the name so the association of pigs and health hazards weren't confused. The flu is the flu.

When I go to the grocery store I use the sanitizing wipes and clean off the shopping cart. Takes me ten minutes but I feel better. You know who sits in that little space by the handle and sometimes that diaper could leak yucky stuff and land on my cart. Better clean and safe than sorry and sick. And then that moving belt by the cashier. I get ill just thinking about placing my groceries on that belt.

So I started being wary of people in public that look or acted sick or were picking their noses. I keep a small bottle of hand sanitizer in my purse. When using public facilities I wash my hands and open the doors with my shoulder so as not to touch dirty knobs.

I have been using gallons of hand sanitizer, washing my sheets in hot water and scrubbing the house with Lysol. Recently I read that you should not share towels. Body crud and other disgusting microns attach their deadly selves to the towels and then jump on to the next person that uses the towel. Do I want my spouses flaking body particles on me? No.

Many hotels are now leaving little notes about reusing towels and sleeping more than one night on the same sheets. They claim it saves the environment. I may be saving the environment but am I placing my health in jeopardy?

From this day forward I will make housekeeping leave me extra towels. I removed all my pool towels that dry on chairs outside after usage (sharing towels again) and washed them all in hot water. I'm using lots of hot water lately. Can't wait to get the electric bill.

Today I read that 1 out of 5 people pee in the pool. OMG! When urine mixes with chlorine it forms a new agent that can attack the respiratory system. Now I am wondering about my asthma. I'm thinking public pools have just been wiped off my list.

So is this how it started for Howard?

Purveyor of Lost Thoughts

I'm not that touchy-feely sort of person - especially from strangers. This morning I walked to the corner to buy a paper from the corner paper hawker. I walk to the corner because I have been robbed too many times from the paper dispenser right around the corner from my house. So, I now boycott the paper dispense thief. The extra walk does me good. I always take the dog just in case there is a human robber ready to steal my four quarters from me.

I get to the corner and - behold - a new paper hawker. They do not seem to last very long, hhhmmm, I wonder why? Selling papers from a street corner is not a lifelong career. I hold up my hand to this new fella and he struts over to me and the dog - separated by a big metal railing. He makes small talk about the dog and I pull his leash away from him. Big boy - Ron is not a friendly chap - especially with strangers. Some people just don't get this about dogs. I tell them he's not stranger friendly and they make a stupid comment about all dogs liking them. Well my friend this dog doesn't like people and he will bite.

I hold out my four quarters to drop in the hawkers hand and he grasps my fingers and clutches them. Creepy. If I act concerned or frightened the Ronster man will notice and be on alert. If I scream he will attack. It's nice to have a protector at your side when paper hawkers are fondling your fingers. I do not want a lawsuit brought against me for a vicious dog.

I pull my hand back out of the paper hawkers grip of death and leave it dangling at my side. As soon as I get home I put on massive amounts of germicide and wash both hands with anti-bacterial soap and them rinse them in bleach. My creep out of the day.