Mercury is retrograde, and let me tell you how I’d know that even if I didn’t know that: I got out my laptop to blog at you, which I’ve done every weekday morning for close to a year now, ever since I started working from home after my surgery and then right on into our pandemic. Today? I can’t log on.
“That’s not your password,” said my laptop.
“Well, yes, it is, though, is the thing,” I said to my laptop.
“Newp. No. It just isn’t,” said my laptop.
In normal circumstances I’d handle it in the way of my people: By throwing the laptop down the street and then getting in my car and running it over. But it belongs to work so I got my phone out and got on our messaging system.
“My computer is saying I have the wrong password but I don’t,” I told the fine people at IT, who are over me.
“IT is offline,” said my phone.
NO THEY AREN’T. THEY’RE IT. THEY CAN’T SHUT DOWN.
So then I made the long trek over here to my desktop computer, old school, the way Laura Ingalls Wilder did it, to blog at you and email IT the way I used to circa 2006.
My keyboard didn’t work. I began typing and no WORDS came up on the screen.
So then I plugged the keyboard in, and THANKS FOR ANY WARNING WHATSOEVER THAT ITS BATTERY WAS LOW, STEVE JOBS AND MERCURY, and now I am finally, finally here writing you.
…I have no idea what I was gonna blog about now.
Oh, I know. My weekend. That fascinating thing.
On Saturday morning, I got up and couldn’t do my usual thing, which is wash the kitchen and bathroom floors. I am out of floor-washing stuff, and I have done something stupid which renders me broke till this Friday, payday. I WAS BEING NICE and helped out two people with money stuff, but overdid it and then I forgot about an automatic withdrawal of a payment I make to something annually, of course, and now I am living on the edge till Friday, trying not to spend any money at all, including spending that $5 for some Mr. Clean.
Or however much Mr. Clean costs. How much does it cost?
…I just looked. Depending on the size and where you get it, it ranges from $2.99 to $7.99. Why do they do that? Does the .99 really fool us? It must or they wouldn’t keep that up.
Anyway it’s really kind of a challenge for me, a game, if you will. Can Joooooon go all week not spending a dime and make it to Friday? Can Joooooon not sign up for automatic withdrawals of things because they always screw her up? Can Jooooon help people and feel like a nice person but not fucking overdo it like she’s the Moneybags guy from Monopoly?
So, because washing the floor was out, and let me tell you how much that bothers me. ONE WEEK I’m going without washing the floor, and I can’t TELL you how seldom I washed my floor at my old house. I don’t know what changed from there to here other than I know the guy who lived here for 50+ years was a neatnik and some of his spirit washed over me or something.
This house is just so nice and tidy and it inspired me to keep it that way. And do you remember the one time he came over, as I know him vaguely, I had orange peels just sitting there in the computer room? I never ever do that but the day he dropped by, Mr. Neatnik, ORANGE you glad I stopped over?
Anyway, since the kitchen and bathroom floors have to be filthy and littered with dirt, I decided to clean my area rug in the living room. I stood in the living room surveying my domain, and realized I’d have to, you know, move some stuff out of there.
So I took out the cat condo no one uses and the smaller bookshelf and the dog bed and the two cat beds and the side table and the wood chair Iris lounges on when she’s feeling well (she’s a lot better lately) and when I got everything piled in the hallway, I said, “I oughta clean the wood floor, too.”
So then I rolled out the barrel and also the area rug, which was relaxing and not at all hard to do myself, what with having to pick up heavy furniture and everything.
So then I Bona’d the wood floors, which if you’ve used Bona I’ll tell you I did the cleaner AND the polisher, and I know you always run out of polish first but I had some so yay. But halfway through, my Bona mop broke so then I had to replace it with the mop from QVC my Aunt Mary sent me and can we just make a deal right now? Any time I say “from QVC,” can we know it’s from Aunt Mary and we save us some keystrokes?
THEN, after the floor dried, THEN I hauled the area rug back and sprayed it with the rug cleaner and then got on all fours like a washerwoman, which I literally was, and scrubbed the rug using the microfiber rags I got from QVC
[pauses to see if we remember our deal]
because the instructions said to use with “a sponge mop” and I don’t have one because it’s not 1972. I didn’t spray the dining room table with lemon Pledge after then set a bouquet of daisies on it, either.
Then I moved the detritus in the hallway to make a barricade so none of the 56 animals would go in there, a thing I’d done previously while the wood floor was drying, a wood floor I then covered in an area rug so why did I even clean it, even.
The thing was, I had also washed my comforter, the big puffy one, because even though it’s the dead of winter I am finding that comforter too hot. The plan was to wash and dry it and store it in one of my storage bags you all told me to get, the kind you suck all the air out of, the same way I do out of any room I enter.
But that thing is huge, so it dried, sort of, but not totally, so I laid it out on the bed in the hopes it’d be undamp, the undamp, after a few hours. So after I was done in the living room, I glanced in the bedroom and
OK. I guess everyone wants to lounge on the damp comforter. This ought to help move matters along.
So we were all stuck there for a bit, just waiting for shit to dry, but eventually the area rug in the living room was dry, and I placed it back under the heavy furniture and then moved the wooden chair and the bookshelf and the cat beds and the side table and my attitude back in there, and I settled onto the couch to watch TV. And?
Something about either the cleaning agent or what I’d done made the rug smell cat pee-ish.
My cats are adults and they are trained. I won’t have it any other way. Besides, they mostly “go” outside, in the dirt out there, which I do not mind. So I really don’t blame them. If anything, maybe it was a foster from ages ago. But I think what I really smell is just a cleaning agent I don’t agree with. A cleaning agent I’m arguing with on Facebook.
So thank heavens I did all that work.
Is that part of Mercury retrograde? Someone tell me. Of course, your message will be garbled.
P.S. I got so caught up in my rug I forgot to tell you about bleaching my teeth so don’t let me forget to tell you that tomorrow.