Creamed

Because of the no job, no money situation I'm in right now, I spend a lot of time doing nothing but feeling guilty. Especially when the rest of the world is whizzing by my front door on their way to work. Out and About. Places To Go, People To See. Me on the porch, watching.

This morning I decided that guilt about this situation is stupid and I

deserve to spend some quality time with myself on the deck. (Which I

scrubbed with bleach Tuesday afternoon to get rid of the mold - I'd also covered the summer furniture cushions, cleaned the grill, cleaned the glass on the table on both sides, scrubbed down the furniture, put out new candles, made an arrangement for the table, put new wood in the chimnea - yes, there were still feathers in it) I had a pint of strawberries and like all the women in my family, I happened to have an aerosol can of Redi Whip in the fridge.

I carried my treat out to the deck, put my feet up on the new, freshly

covered cushions, dispensed myself some cream, and started

enjoying my strawberries. I had the stereo on really loudly, because I

spent yesterday putting together a Tribute To Chuck (the Hubby) cd for his birthday party and I wanted to hear how it went together.

During a particularily mellow song, I noticed some noise, which I

thought possibly was one of the infamous BIT ERRORS my illegal downloading program is always warning me about. The song ended, and I could still hear the noise. Maybe I left the hose running? Maybe the stereo speakers were EXPLODING JUST IN TIME FOR THE FREAKING PARTY ISN'T THAT JUST MY LIFE- CRAP!

Suddenly, the Redi Whip can lifted right up off the table. Right into the

air. In front of me! Behind it was a pool of cream! It was shooting out

the side of the can, with enough force to pilot the can all over the table top, spewing dairy product. Now it was all over the newly scrubbed floor, all over the dogs (it always seems to involve dogs) all over me, all over the wall of the house. Just as suddenly, all the bees left the crabapple tree and swarmed the cream. I grabbed the can and put my mouth over the hole. Wait, that's HUFFING and dangerous! I tried putting my hand over it, but I just got a palm of sticky cream.

I hurled the can onto the lawn (not far from where I hurled the crow parts). Last time I checked it was going in circles, covered with bees.

I have decided I don't have time for a job outside the house.  Hell, it just took me four hours to clean up after I made myself a snack.