I was in the shower this morning thinking.
Now this is unusual, thinking anywhere, even the shower. It was probably because I didn’t have my usual audience. My regulars:
Orion was mad because I took him out of the shower before I turned on the water. I’m not mean I had to let the hot water heat up and he may have been scalded.
Charlie was too busy finishing the kids’ breakfasts.
The occasionals were also absent:
Pixie is still angry that I cut her hair last week and called her a grot. She is revolting, see Does Anyone Know What On Earth Might Be Wrong With My Cat?!
Cherise was staring at Mum’s door in order to make it disappear so she can live with Mum.
Smokie was watching Cherise praying for her success so he too could live with the Beatific One. See The Other Woman.
Echo doesn’t like getting wet. Because she is a cat, and she is not severely mentally disturbed like the other three. Okay I see the problem with that sentence, she is differently severely mentally disturbed. See Echo’s Spine Chilling, Terrifying Love.
The kids avoid me in the morning.
I don’t know! Alright fine, they prefer their father. In the morning they like to preserve the hope that I may never get up, as long as possible. My beloved was too busy catering to their every whim.
Grandma, thank goodness, has so far not approached me in the shower, despite her terrible statement the other day ‘Why are you hiding, its not like I haven’t seen you naked before!’
Not since I was a toddler Mum! The only thing worse than letting your mother live in your granny flat is letting your Hippy Aquarian mother live in your granny flat.
The rabbits and rats had not been released from their cages yet. The budgies don’t leave their cage. Ditto the fish & axolotls, tanks not cages, cages tend to leak.
Why was I even showering in the morning. I usually avoid this time. The kids have to shower to get ready for school.
Shhhhhhhhhh, I know only one of them goes to school but if we disrupt their morning routine we may never get the middle two in a shower again. And Cat refuses to change her routine.
I like to shower after midnight. It cools me down for sleep in summer and warms me up for winter. But I had to wash my hair, neurofeedback gel etc head. If I take wet hair to bed I tend to get hair problems. And I couldn’t wash it in the afternoon because I got a seriously bad migraine.
This seems like a completely unnecessary waste of my time and ridiculously complicated, I hear you say. Well suffer, I had to think all this pointless stuff, so now you can read it.
Anyway none of the above actually has anything to do with today’s topic. Just a little warning neither does the next bit.
Today’s topic was based on a quite whimsical thought I had about acronyms. Then I realised, am I giving away too much information on my blog? What about Cyber safety? What if I let a stalker know too much?
Shortly followed by the realisation that I had already broken all those rules and am pathetically easily identifiable. I may as well continue as stupidly as I have begun.
But wait, do I really want a severely stupid stalker? Maybe they are worse. But you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I have to be ME!
Today’s topic and the double entendre (sorry both meanings are boringly clean) of my title.
My husband’s initials are GTH. Can you believe no bullies ever used this against him. I was the first. I am smarter than school bullies! Hooray! I am a bu…… Don’t even think about it.
So I can say GTH GTH. Go To Heck Gavin T H! Try it, its fun!
And when we were teens Mum was a little put off by his PDA, public displays of affection. It was her, hippy but country and just weird, not him, his public affection was quite conservative for our peers. Now he is accused of having a form of autism called PDA; Pathological Demand Avoidance.
Go To Heck with your Public Display of Affection, Gavin T H with your Pathological Demand Avoidance.
Did we read all this rubbish for that ridiculously miniscule pay off?
Yes, yes you did! Ha ha!
But because I’m nice I’ll add a couple more.
Mum is EAT. And she was a cooking teacher.
Mum tried to get a email address with her and her husband’s initials, but because it was ENT it was too popular. Tolkein’s walking trees for you ignoramuses.
On the Medicare card my kids initials read CAT, Kitty, Alley and Tabby. Mr Kill Joy refused to let us name the last lump Sabrina, Samantha or even Selene. I know, and you thought I was mean!
One final word for those of you that have read all the way through these pointless witterings. I bet you no longer miss my online presence. I can hear you out there groaning and wishing more computer problems on poor little me!
Who is mean now?