I scrubbed my kitchen floor yesterday, and I mean really scrubbed, like hands and knees and everything. Why I did this when my hips and legs are already killing me, I'm not sure, but I did. My one confession being that I don't clean under the fridge or stove in any place that we rent. You don't even want to know the gunk and grossness that lies below there from previous people. My justification being that it's not my crud so why should I clean up other disgusting people's disgustingness?! Of course now that I know how gross it is it will bug me for days that I skipped that part. I used to clean cabins/houses for a pretty good hourly wage, and yes, I cleaned under the fridge. So maybe if I got payed $13 for an hour to clean under my "rental fridge/stove" I would do it. Since I'm not, I'm going to have to feel a lot more guilty first.
I've decided I can no longer watch the news after the 6pm news. I have nightmares if I do. Like of little boys being stepped on by horses and houses on fire and it's just not good. I'm blaming it on my mothering instincts that are apparently now in full force. Which I decided yesterday when the dog got neutered and I almost cried because he was so scared being left at the vet's and I felt guilty for inflicting pain on him. Yes, it's for his and our good, but who cares?! He's my baby and we were letting him feel pain. Yep, mothering instincts are here.
Speaking of the dog, he loves toasted bread products. If you make toast, a bagel/english muffin, whatever, as soon as he hears the toaster pop up, he's at your feet tail wagging and making your life miserable. Don't sit down while eating said products, he'll either be on your lap or the back of the couch trying to steal bites on the way to your mouth. If you stand up and eat, he'll jump up on you for a while until you cave in and feed him some. Best to throw it far away to distract him for 5 seconds or so. It's his favorite thing, or so I thought until yesterday when we made eggs and he REALLY freaked out. Apparently toast comes in second to eggs, there's just no way to describe him when he wants these, he's almost human. Kind of like a demanding child...hmm...
And speaking of mothering, I made cream puffs tonight. Just for the sake that I had heavy whipping cream and decided to try. My mom makes incredible and amazing cream puffs. Mine were okay, too much work for 11 puffs, but they are good. Not like Mom's. Her's would be worth the work, mine are debateable. I wish I could cook/bake like my Mom. When she makes bread products, she doesn't use a recipe. Growing up it was, "well, put this much in and I'll tell you if it looks right." Great tasting, not so helpful for learning to cook since I have no concept of amounts or depth. Driver's Ed for example: "Turn your blinker on halfway down the block." That's great if I know what and where halfway down the block is, I still can't tell.
Anyway, I love my Mom, and I really wish I could be like her in more ways than cream puffs. I wish I could do most of my life as well as my Mom has done hers. My one consolation is that I loved my grandmas to death. My Grandma Otto (who has passed away) still makes me cry when I think of her and I can't compare her impact on my heart and life to anyone else. The consolation being that my kids will have just such and amazing Grandma Otto as well.
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