The June Cleaver Award

Washing my bedding while Pop is getting the groceries. I really need to do this more often. The bed sheets and pillow cases are pretty disgusting, blackened and greasy.

I feel more sympathetic about Pop's apparent efforts to take a stab at the floors. I'm not sure what he did overnight, but walking in the kitchen is like walking on flypaper, sticky sticky, and I don't know what he got for his trouble. It doesn't look better. I was thinking that this is typical of Pop: he tries to take one step forward, but as often as not, he winds up taking two steps backward.

I don't suppose either of us have to worry about getting nominated for the June Cleaver award.

I ache to live in true middle-classy cleansiness, but I guess we are not cut out for it. I suppose Pop aches for it too, and I feel lucky that he has not taken out his frustration on me, by insisting unreasonably and irrationally that I should be able to make the floors and the house look Brady Bunch fresh.

* * * *

I decided to ask Pop if he tried to do something new about cleaning the floors, in hopes of discouraging him from repeating the procedure.

It turns out that he had dropped a bottle of barbecue sauce. And he thought it might be enough to give a couple of swipes with the swipe-mop.

So, we're probably just going to live with the sticky floors for a while, unless one of us feels up to doing a true mop job with soap and water and a brush-mop. So, the stickiness will probably just have to wear away on its own.

Ice Cream

I was hoping Pop would call about the groceries, and he did. Seeing that it is an overcast morning, more like spring than summer, I wanted to change my ice cream order.

I was ready to give up on Rocky Road. The trip from the commissary to home is too long in the summer, and I don’t think Pop can be moved to make a separate trip for the ice cream. I was ready to switch to the H.E.B. brand, taking advantage of the fact that Pop likes their strawberry ice cream, and HEB is more than twice as close to home.

So, one more serving of Rocky Road for the season!

I don’t think I have blurted about my revived appreciation for ice cream. I am still trying to maintain a two-coke daily limit, and ice cream makes it easier. It is hard for me to enjoy dessert without a coke, unless that dessert happens to be ice cream. Ice cream apparently does not aggravate my acid reflux condition, and I am happy to think that it is generally healthier.

those dog snacks

Pop had coupons for those dog snacks. So, he bought a ton of them. He cannot overcome the mesmerizing illusion that he is minting money when he uses a coupon. I suppose I can try the snacks again on the neighbor dog. It may be recalled that he grew cold on them. He probably shoudn't be so picky. Though, I have started to give him some of those excess sausages, which probably does not help matters. I'll probably have to start throwing out a bag a week.

Tumblr porn

I should probably take a few days off from Tumblr porn, and then discipline myself to only looking at them for no more than an hour, in total, for the day. I am feeling deadened to the eroticism, which strikes me as a sad thing.

The problem: I have so many posts flowing down my stream that I am afraid of being overwhelmed.

But now that I am thinking it out in written words, I can see that this is a risk I should run. I should not let the porn control me; I should control the porn.

Paul Newman Pizza

Pop got another frozen pizza. A Paul Newman brand. Apparently, Lorie is big on Paul Newman products. And I am rather astounded. It's a very simple pizza, but it taste surprisingly pizza-ey. Very good. I am thinking that I would prefer it to the French pizza bread we have been getting.