Tag Archives: humor

Saving My Mailman One Good Deed At A Time

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I don’t wish to brag, but I did a very selfless act this morning.  In doing so, I expect I saved the very life of my rural mailman.

Before I humbly re-enact my heroic deed, I should explain how rural mail carriers are a whole different breed than your basic urban carrier.  Besides having to have cars with either the steering wheel on the right-side (which I know for my British readers, that is normal) or having to have a really long left leg and arm, so you can sit on the right side and still drive and work the gas/brake pedals, they also very often deliver packages deemed “not worthy of our time but we will still charge you an exorbitant amount of money to send it using our UPS rates” by other carriers.

In the past I have lauded the generosity and bravery and long-sufferingness of my mail guy, Tom.  A real rural hoarder’s, I mean collector’s, friend is old Tom.  I wonder how many strange packages he has delivered to my house over the years?  Remember the time I ordered a full-size saddle from EBay and it was delivered via the USPS shrink-wrapped in black plastic bags and poor Tom had to drive up to my house and honk (that is the way we do it around here, or I should say, the way TOM does it….I think it is a kindness on his part and not part of the Mail Carriers Oath….”neither snow, nor rain, nor huge dogs, rouge pigs or wild goats, shall keep us from our appointed rounds” (extremely paraphrased by author)).

So getting back to my tale of heroism….this morning at the butt-crack of dawn (9am), as I am just getting to sleep (caught some kind of bug and have not slept in three nights or days….more or less) out in my camper (tent bed, AC, medicinal hidden BlackBerry Brandy, no bugs or snakes), I hear the roar of Tom’s old car coming into the driveway and the melodic honk of his horn.  I am expecting some things via some kind of carrier so I think about jumping (hahaha…I kill myself….me jumping out of bed….a slow roll is more like it) out of my squooshy bed and since I cannot sleep in normal bedtime attire, I have just a t-shirt on and by the time I get into my lovely Lularoe leggings and a normal shirt plus my “when can I get out of this damn”  Playtex torture device, he will be home having dinner so my initial thought is to just go flying out wrapped up in my fake Muppet fur pink blanket.  Now here comes the heroic part:

I saved Tom the wonder carrier, the shock of his life by NOT flinging my ever so large, wrapped up in yards of long furry pink blanket body with dark blue-standing straight up from my head like some kind of Roman soldier helmet-hair, bare hairy legs and too big for me but work ok running (again….hahaha…running) to and fro the camper, red Crocs.  The poor man would have screamed like a little girl and hit the gas and probably ran smack dab into Scott’s large, but sunk once when he forgot to put a plug back in the engine when he was fixing it at the marina, fishing boat that has resided IN FRONT of the door to the garage all summer.

So, you see, my friends, not all heroes live in Texas….some of us live in the woods of northern Minnesota, saving one mailman at a time…..

You’re welcome,

The Queen (who really needs her own cartoon show or sitcom….just sayin…)

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BATTLE OF THE BATHTUB (NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE BATTLE OF THE BULGE WHICH I ALSO STRUGGLE WITH)

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It sits….taunting me.  In all of it’s shining glory.  Teasing me with visions of how it could be between us.  Tempting me with thoughts of bubbles and candlelit nights, sipping cold, dark red adult grape juice.  Zen type music softly playing on the Bose.  All the cares of my life slipping away in chest-deep water (which isn’t hard to do since my chest is a lot lower that it ever was).  image I know it’s song is a lie.  I still have the aches and pains from our first tryst.  I try not to listen to it’s siren call for I know it is evil and will do harm to me if I give in.

But it is not the only entity in my bathroom.  My shower has taken on an attitude of it’s own.  Can you spot the smugness in it’s glassy look?imageIt’s smug face reminds me that I will have to use it if I don’t wish to stinketh.  Once again I will subject myself to it’s claustrophobic belly and odd smell.  It will assail me with daggers of ice cold water when I turn it on and then scald me before I can adjust the one-armed demon.  It will laugh it’s hollow laugh, when I drop the soap and struggle to bend over without hitting parts of me along it’s angled bones. It conspires with the metal basket full of scrubs and soaps and razors to suddenly drop from the side of the shower wall and nail me on the head and cause my heart to momentarily stop at the randomness of the assault.  And it will claim victory when I can no longer stand it and have to bail out not completely finished with my “toilette”.

If that wasn’t cruel enough even the small tools of the “toilette” mock me.  My safety razor has taken on a demeanor of a gigolo sunning himself at a pool in the South of France.  Can you see his arm thrown back and his long, lean body just laying there thinking, “Ah zee ze fat womanz….ze thinkz I am going to shave zee legz but ze iz wrong.”imageAnd my electric razor is giddy with delight since he knows I must go back to his cutting ways since I can not manage to shave both sides of my legs in either demonic torture chambers.  He buzzes with anticipation of our next session.  He is tightening up his coils as I type, ready and waiting to cut me and give me his famous razor burn thighs.  He has a hellish metallic laugh.  Somewhat on the maniac scale. Notice his face…. does it not have the look of a crazed monster?image

So here I sit.  Held hostage by my bathroom appliances.  If I want to go anywhere, which is the worse of two evils?  Do I want to go into the Shower of Horror or do I want to chance being like President Taft who (as legend goes) got stuck in his claw foot tub because of his great girth and had to be rescued?imageOr be publicly humiliated on the 6 and 10 news casts as this poor woman was when she had to be rescued by emergency personnel.  (You can tell this really isn’t me by her hair color…I wouldn’t be caught dead in that color!)imageI need to grow either more arms (so I can spread the force needed to hoist my buttocks out of the tub)imageOr get a tub like this…..image.jpegBut since I would be terrified of getting locked in there and the water rising above my head, I doubt very much that this is a viable option.

I guess I will have to give it more thought and load up on sponges and wet wipes or just stay home rotting until I get it figured out.  Stay tuned.  You just know I will share it with you all!!!

Queen’s Question for Today….are you a tub person or a shower person and can you share a funny/scary experience using it????   I can not really be the only person in the world who has adventures in their own bathrooms?

Your Queen who is on her way to looking like a Yeti……

BATHTUB WENCH ISO BATHTUB WINCH

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I have been waiting YEARS to take a bath.  Yes, I said YEARS.

I grew up having a claw foot tub. Most of the places I lived in had claw foot tubs.   A few years after only having a shower when we moved into our country house, we put in an old three foot claw tub. (The tub was three feet long, not sitting on just three feet!)  I loved that tub.  I named him “Brad” (LOL).  I could sit for hours in that tub with my back against the cool porcelain and my feet just touching the other end of the tub.  It was heaven.  image

Not so for my 6’2″ husband.  When he was in the tub his knees were up by his ears.

So finally I gave in and we bought a new shower/tub unit.  I hated it.  It was long and skinny and I kept slipping under the water when I would try to lay back on the crappy acrylic back.  My elbows would bang against the sides of the tub when I would try to read and since it had no “lips” to grab on to, I had to roll over on to my hands and knees to get out of it.  So for years, I would only use the shower.

Two years ago or so, we completely redid the bathroom and my husband went out and found an old claw foot tub but it needed refinishing.  Long story short, we finally got it done and it took him months to get it hooked up and the feet to stay on (the feet that came with the tub were NOT the feet that the tub originally had and so he had to find a way to make them stay on and I insisted that he put wood blocks under the tub just in case the feet gave way while I was splish-splashing.). Last week he finally finished it and other than needing to paint the outside, it was ready!imageSince it had been years since I had taken “a tub”, I was a bit nervous if I should attempt it only when Scott was home.  But waiting until way after bedtime or getting up early to make sure he was here just wasn’t working out.

Today, I was up at 5am and when Scott got up a couple of hours later, I told him that today was the day I was going to test the tub.  I had no bubble bath or anything fun to put in it but I was dirty and hairy so I just pretty much wanted to de-filthify myself and would save my “true” 1st time for a night where I had candles, a good scary book, some adult grape juice, tons of bubbles  and no deforesting to do.

But like most days, after eating breakfast I got super tired so I laid down for my afternoon nap (only it was 9:45am).  I slept for a couple of hours and when I got up I noticed Scott had texted me and tried to call me numerous times.  He was so very worried that something had happened to me.  I texted him back asking what was his problem and he said he was worried that something had happened to me while I was in the tub.  Like what?, I asked.  He texts back, LIKE THE TUB FLIPPED OVER.

imageOk , so now I’m thinking why on earth would the tub FLIP OVER if he had put the legs on right and secured them and there are blocks of wood under the tub, right?  Tipping over in the tub was never really on my radar…..I was more afraid of me and the tub crashing through the floor as I am not sure how sturdy our floor is!imageAfter reassuring me that the tub really was in no danger of tipping over, I decided, “What the heck?”

I filled that gorgeous tub as full as I could and I got my stuff all ready and made the discovery that I had no where handy to put anything.  So I had to just drop the soap, washcloth and razor into the tub…no reading today, I guess.  As I was getting into the tub, I was surprised at how tall this tub was and getting my abundant leg over the side was proving more difficult than I remembered.  Once I had both legs in, I knew that lowering myself in gracefully was not going to be happening and so I set off a tsunami as my zaftig body dropped straight in from about three feet.imageBut, I have to admit, the tub never moved and felt super sturdy.

Like I mentioned before, it has literally been years since I have been in a tub and I have aged and gotten bigger and have not had many occasions to lift my legs in such a manner that one needs to to shave said legs.  Thank the Lord that my bathing suit really does have leggings down to my ankles as only the fronts of my legs are going to get shaved in this tub.

I also noticed that sitting on a hard surface is really painful on my Fibro pressure points and that the tub water doesn’t flow to the back of me very well since my ample hips seem to make dams on both sides of the tub.  And worst of all, I no longer can manage to maneuver myself so I can get my bum very clean…I know…TMI….but if you know me, you know I keep it real!!!

imageFinally, I decide that I have had enough “fun” for one day and I better get out before my energy drains as fast as my tub is.

I knew somewhere in the forgotten recesses of my mind that getting out of this or any other normal tub was going to be a bit of a challenge.  OH MY GOSH…..it took me more than 10 minutes to figure out a way to get out of that damn tub.  I tried just lifting myself up like I used to back when I was still young and weighed a whole heck of a lot less and had good knees and back.  Yeah, right, I could get my arse up half way but I had no leverage to heave ho myself.  I tried turning over but I couldn’t do it.  I even grabbed my back brush and used it to drag my grands little stepstool over to see if I could get it into the tub and get myself on it and the whole time I am hearing my husband’s voice warning me to not use anything in the tub that might scratch it and the stool is vintage and has metal legs and it was hitting the inside of the tub as I wrestled it in behind me.  Still couldn’t hoist my fat a$$ onto that little stool.  So now what?

I contemplated calling my husband (I was smart enough to put the phone on the toilet so if I had to use it, I could reach it) but he would not be happy to have to come home from work to get his fat, old wife out of the tub.  And I would not have been happy to have him have that image burnt into his memory forever.  I thought about just sitting there until he came home but by now I am feeling pretty beaten up from all my banging around trying to turn over and I can feel my back starting to stiffen up and it would be at least five hours before he got home and by then, I would need to be cut out with the jaws of life.

So I did what any other woman would do in my situation, I cried.

Then I got ticked and tried one more time to get as close to the front of the tub as I could and I used every ounce of strength I had (which honey, ain’t much) and I pulled and pulled and grunted just like I was giving birth and damn, I got myself up!!!!

I want you to know I am pretty proud of myself for being able to do that.  And when you visit me in the hospital for pulling muscles in my back, thighs, arms and jaw and in full body traction, I want you to “fake high-five me” as my arms will be hanging from some pulley connected to the ceiling.   I am not kidding.  I will not be able to move tomorrow.  Already my back is killing me and it is just early afternoon.

So, how do I tell my husband that this tub I have been pestering him for for YEARS, is not going to work for me.  That to use it, I will either need a winch chair to lower me in and out of it or I will need some kind of pulley system that it can lift me out by my arms! Or he will have to invest in this tub…

imageI like this idea.  You roll into the tub.  Take your bath. Empty the tub. Roll back out.  I could do this!!!!  And it is PADDED.   Dang, why didn’t I see this before we bought another business as I am sure it costs as much as a car!

I guess for now, I will use my tub more as a storage space imageKeeping it real in Culver,

Your clean and semi-shaved Queen