Miriam’s ungrateful list

Miriam’s blog.  Jackie has been doing most of the blog writing while I was sick with bronchitis.  So this week, I’m taking over.

Jackie did a gratitude list.  This week it’s my turn.  I try to be grateful for one thing every day.  It’s something I think about every morning before I get out of bed.  I love just laying there, curled up inside my warm nest.  This morning while I was thinking, I started thinking about what I’m not grateful for.  So I decided to be ungrateful instead.  Here goes:

 Bad drivers.  In California they outnumber the good drivers by around 179,814 to 1. I’m the one.  In all my years of driving, the four or five accidents I’ve been involved in I was hit by someone else.  Several times while I was parked or stopped at a light.
 Ants.  Although I do understand their place in the scheme of things and recognize they are marvelous engineers, I do not appreciate them practicing their skills in my kitchen cabinets.  (Screw the lid on the peanut butter, Jackie.  Tightly.)
A leaking roof.  This last week brought torrential rains, snow, and in some places hail.  One of the problems of having your roof leak is that you don’t find out until it’s too late to fix it.  Now I have to call a roofer to fix the roof for the third time in the last ten years.  I would rather spend my money on Three Musketeers bars, turkey jerky, and salt and vinegar chips.
Cigarettes.  I don’t really have to explain this one.  But as an addendum, Jackie does refer to them as her anti-homicidal medication.  I feel so safe now.
Jackie just announced that I can only put ten things on my list.  I’m not grateful for that, because I have a thousand. And moving on …
Bird poop on my windshield.  Maybe I’m being paranoid but I feel like a target.  (Jackie’s giggling over the fact Miriam used the word poop.  It’s an accurate term.)
Dust.  I live in a very dusty area and I can literally watch the dust accrue on every available surface.  An unrealistic part of me thinks once I’ve dusted, it should stay that way—forever.  Dust is the locusts of the desert.
Peacocks, especially the ones somewhere nearby in the neighborhood.  Have you ever heard a peacock?  They have the loudest, ugliest sound for such a beautiful bird.  And at 4:30 every morning, I’m awakened by their horrible cackling.
Loud parties, unless they’re at my house.
I love Snuggles, my dog.  I inherited her from my father-in-law a number of years ago.  She’s sweet, but getting older and has to go out ten times during the night.  Because I keep my door closed, Snuggles has to wake me up and then I stumble to the door, open it, wait for her to get back, and because she’d hitting on fourteen or so, she can no longer jump up on my bed which means I have to lift her.  I love her, but I do not love the nights of interrupted sleep.  (And yes, I tried to get her to use the stairs or ramp I bought and she refused.  I couldn’t even bribe her with treats.  She knows a good thing when she has one.)
Ha.  Snuck in one extra because no 5 just wasn’t right.  Vodka shrimp pasta from The Yard House.  Jackie brought leftovers from her girls’ night out and it smells divine, because I’m allergic to wheat.

 

 

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