Time Space differentials suck

My husband, "The Droid", is a very tall man and skinny. Sort of like a grey haired stick man. He grew up with very little. VERY little. When we got married we had NOTHING, not even a car. ( yeah I know). So everything we have, we worked our butts off to get. We built this house and it was completed 14 months before Katrina came along. ( I really hate hurricanes, they suck) My husband didn't care about brick color, types of shingles, shutter styles or even what kind of flooring we had. He did however say. I have always dreamed of having a tub I could fit in. Why? Imagine that every bath he has ever taken involved him have his legs on the wall above the faucets with his knees bent so much he could kiss his knee caps or give himself a black eye on his knee if he sneezed. Sort of like us at OBGYN appointments except hike the legs up more and take away those stylish and comfy stirrups. So I had my contractor put in a tub that is HUGE, really huge, and it has jets and lives in our Master Bathroom.

It has not only become his place of solitude and his library but he ONLY takes baths since he finally fits in a tub. He is happy. I am happy because he is happy. The prince used to snorkel in our tub, it's that big. This tub also completely empties our downstairs hot water heater and takes a LONG LONG time to fill to a respectable level. ( what I call, the floating boob water level)

So April of 2009 my medical issues are getting worse and by May the Dr's have told me what's up and pretty much to stop work ( not in that order of course). So May of 2009, I am feeling all isolated and lonely and needing social interaction
before I go around stabbing people with cooked spaghetti
and suffering cabin fever. I join facebook after getting a billion requests from my friends telling me it's so cool but before I had been just too busy with work, kids, work, and you know kids. I have never owned a fancy phone that required any knowledge allowed me to be all " cool", and had never even sent or received a text message, let alone {gasp} browse the web. I quickly got addicted to all things Face Book. Finding elementary school friends, to college friends, making new friends and experiencing the entire 6 degrees of separation thing first hand.

So one evening I went in and did my routine.
 Start the tub at almost full blast, put in some bubbles, then move the clothes from the washer and dryer,

put together a 30 kajjillion piece 3 d jigsaw puzzle, unload and load the dishwasher,
raise corn from seed to maturity feed and water the dogs,transcribe the entire phone book into Egyptian hieroglyphics.

So after I finished those quick little tasks, I went in to our bathroom and checked the water level. wow not even 1/4 way there. Still about 20 minutes to go at this rate.

Mistake #1- walking out of the bathroom.

Mistake #2- picking up the laptop

Mistake #3- logging on to facebook

Mistake #4- clicking on someones link to help them kick a cow or milk a fence or whatever it was.

Mistake #5- The FB time space differential. Me being such a FB newbie that I didn't realize the amount of time it appears you have been on FB is actually 1/30th of the time that has passed you by in the real world. {ie: if you feel you have been on facebook for 2 minutes it has actually been 60 minutes, 3 minutes of facebook time =90 minutes in the real world and so on.}

Mistake #6- not knowing #5, and feeling like I just spent 30 minutes on facebook , realize the tub is still going, so I run toward the master bath to make sure it's not overflowing.

The rest happened in slow motion.

My fat freckled a$$ skids around the hallway corner on the tile like the dog in the old chuck wagon commercials, prompting my boobs to bounce me off the hall closet door I had just bashed with my face because you should slow down on curves, and there is NO RUNNING in this house. Then I hit the Master bedroom hall carpet and it was like the friggin everglade swamps. Warm, moist and smelling like New Orleans on a hot Sunday morning. This is a really bad thing people because from the Master bedroom Hall Entrance it's about 5 feet to my Master Bathroom door, that once you enter is another 7 feet to the tub. Even in Mississippi math that meant water had spread at least 12 feet in that direction. Not good. But whats worse than that? Flinging open the master bath door and rushing into a few inches of standing water and wiping out on the tile floors you HAD TO HAVE OR YOU WOULD DIE. (slamming your tail bone on that precious tile and jarring your back so hard you can't breathe, and you start wondering where you can find one of those cool inflatable butt donuts because you know you wont be able to sit for a month or so) Oh but baby I can take it a step further on the scale of idiocy. Because MY master closet ( he has his own ) which is about 9x9 ( double the size of my entire bedroom growing up) sits just to the other side of my bathroom which had more water in it than my ankles when I was pregnant and was possibly developing a tidal phase pattern.

I think I blocked a lot out, or in therapy talk, "repressed the memory", either for self preservation or so I could deny my status of epic asshattedness. But I know I lost all but 1 pair of shoes ( yeah like around 30 pairs were sacrificed to the water gods ( shout out to Osiris, Neptune, Chalchiuhtlatonal, and Poseidon ). Along with anything else on MY huge master bedroom closet floor. I know we used 2 steam cleaners and 2 shop vacs and 4 people carrying buckets. I know that my darling Droid slipped carrying a bucket of mucky sucked up water and it fell back on him like in Americas funniest home videos but you weren't allowed to laugh because he might be hurt. But the biggest clue we should not laugh was the fact he got back up and then spiked his blackberry on the wet floor and it will still deep enough to make a splash. I know we had about 5 fans blowing for 3 days to help. I also know that to this day, when you walk into my master bedroom hallway it smells like ditch diggers ass.

"It's so easy even a CaveMan could do it."

Hi my name is ThePeachy1 and I am a moron.

Hope this makes you feel better about today...

xoxo
PEACH OUT...

10 Truths about Camping

Ok I am back. I have been gone, say you missed me and I will come over and comment on your blog and sing your praises, if you don't own a blog I will send my dalmatian over to kiss you, he's super affectionate. (and in time out with me anyway as you will find out in a minute.)

In case you didn't notice due to my extreme journalistic professionalism. Stop laughing damnit. ( That's code for I wrote posts and had them set to auto publish while I was gone.)  News flash I have been gone since Friday morning- yes that's like 5 days of a total lack of internet and communications.

News flash 2- I lived.

So anyway I figured out 10 Truths of Camping that are pretty much the rule and here they are.

1- If you built your house in the deep woods and have a 500 foot driveway and never see humans unless you drive over 2 miles then camping has little appeal unless you are a 9 year old boy who never goes camping.

2- Camping in a huge RV is not really like camping it's more like sleeping poorly crammed in your half bath if you move all your food in there and had people play crappy music loudly in the living room and realatives wake you up all night.

3- No matter how much you love your family,  when they fart in a small enclosed space it is a viable defense in a criminal trial.

4- No matter how much you love your family, the one who wakes up at 4am every morning is the one who sleeps in the one area of the RV you could sleep through all the noise that person is going to make at 4am.

5- If you are camping at a campground you have never camped at, once you are set up you will find out you picked pretty much the crappiest spot on earth and there were 40 choices that would have been better but you are not about to tear down camp and set it up again so you will just deal with it and pretend it's FANTASTIC to the other adults so they don't get crazy moving ideas in their head.

6- big huge luxury RV's are like doing Calculus when your are drunk off MD20/20, and were exposed to IV Opium with a Valium chaser. There are generators, grey water, white water, onans, converters, pilot lights, flip switches, and fuses. Most of the shit wont work because your Dad owns the RV and can't remember how to work anything so assumes it's all broken including the awning and fridge so you buy 10 bags of ice a day and explain to your elderly parents why you don't eat open mayo that has been at room temp for 3 days. They must then tell you 5 hour stories of how they made their own mayo from the gravel on the road they walked to school up hill both ways 30 miles in the snow barefoot between their 5 jobs when they were 7 years old. You will shut up and eat the mayo with an imodium sandwich.

7- A husband who has an IQ that places him in Mensa that has not spent 20 hours off the net since 1995 can indeed go 3 days without internet.  However he will think a rented Kayak can fit in a Mini Van and when you point out that it's touching the windshield his response will be " no shit".  Then he will shamefully come to you a few hours later explaining that Kayak busted out the windshield of your minivan even though he didn't even go over a bump or anything but since it's day 4 you will be too tired and covered in dirt to be pissed or argue. 

8- Your 9 year old is pretty literal. When his pawpaw taught him how to tie a hook on a fishing line and then how to put the worm on the hook then took him fishing for 3 hours and they didn't even get a nibble. He will say something like, " PawPaw said today we weren't really fishing, we were just drowning the worms, tomorrow we will try to fish since we got the worms dead."

9- Some campgrounds are just filled with rednecks of all levels.  

To our left - was the RV whisperer. He got our fridge working ( day 3), He got our white water dumped ( day 3), explained how to open the awning ( day 4), replaced bathroom light bulb ( day 2), he had 2 huge RV's and 2 boats, he even let the prince borrow a life jacket 3 times, and fixed the generator, refused any payment or thanks.

To our right - were the people who rented a pull through concrete RV site with power and water for their pup tent. They secured cardboard boxes and had huge but short lived very dangerous fires 3 feet from their tent and Truck(s) every night.  On night 3  they got so drunk they decided a fight would be a good idea, she threated to shoot "his dumb redneck ass"  ( pretty sure there were just as many guns as campers) and he stumbled out of the tent with his Pabst blue ribbon beer in hand crossed 3 camp sites to pee next to our van.

Behind us-  An RV that had over 15 cars or more at all times, professional sound system speakers on stands all pointing in every direction other than at their own campsites.  They played Johnny Cash,  Hank Williams Sr., Patsy Cline, and every other dead old country musician in addition to night 2 of the bluegrass jam out.  Now this wouldn't be so bad if it ended but their "sleep" or "pass out" or  "shut their shit off"  period was from between 2am and 9am. Other than that you had to yell at our campsite.

In Front of us-  People that clearly hated the music from the rednecks behind us so they turned on their truck(s) radios to play rap songs with absolutely filthy lyrics as loud as they could  so it sounded like totally crap and you couldn't make it out clearly. That was kind of a blessing because I didn't have to explain to my 9 year old what some of those words and phrases meant. Plus their batteries died within a few hours.

air guitar play off, I think they were each playing a song from different camping neighbors.

10- Jungle Fever isn't just a song or movie.  It's what happens when you go camping and decide to hike on a "scenic trail" after a long day of kayaking and are delirious from rancid mayo.

Don't get excited you closet fiends, I am pretty sure that's a plant of pokey death, not a
happy hemp plant on the "scenic route" hiking trip of death 

So there you go.   All in all it was a fantastic trip. Thanks much in part to the RV whisperer dude.  

**  3 fingernails, 1 ankle, 1 doge grand caravan windshield, 3 packs of hot dogs  were indeed harmed in the making of this post**

** Also my Dalmatian punished me for not taking him by pulling 1 shoe from 4 pairs off the shoe rack and chewing it to oblivion, along with a bag of chips ahoy, box of honey buns, and capri drink, and my electric duster all met their doom at his hands. uhm mouth. **

If you want to see more pics and a nicer more meaningful 
story of the trip go to
BeingPeachy.com click here