A big day at the Jones house full of random activity and absolutely nothing of substance

by Janie Jones

We had flash flood warnings yesterday.

Need I say, it was a high scoring Bookworm day. For those of you keeping track, poop is a legitimate scoring word, but there were no bonuses on the letter tiles during the one chance I had to play the word, so it only scored 1800 points. Loo apparently is also a legitimate scoring word. I had two bonus tiles on that play, so it got me 2730 points.

I would have preferred to play scrabble, but one needs a partner. The spud, being just six, is still having trouble commanding the spelling of C-A-T and is not really ready for it, Leif, however, is a very challenging partner, but he’s having insomnia this month. He’s officially being upgraded from basement troll to vampire. And not one of those lame teen angst sparkly ones. He’s a gritty one. A handsomely rugged one. Lately he’s been into shaving with this old fashioned safety razor and shaving soap you use with an honest to god shaving brush. Because he often doesn’t emerge from his bat cave until dusk, when I go to bed my room, which is stationed right next to the main bathroom, still smells of the lingering clean fragrant shave soap. Yes, I’ve been mostly alone these last few weeks with no real diversions; no school, no job, crappy weather, no where to go and no money to go there anyway, only a neurotic panicky dog, a 6 year old for companionship and the arousingly vague smell of shave soap. I’m going a bit wonky. Mmmmm gritty vampires. Forget about the impracticality of that. Definitely a lot wonky.

Too much information shared? Probably. Apologies.

Lest, however, I make too light of my day, I did manage, in between levels of Bookworm, to do 5 loads of laundry (including the ‘poop rug’ in the basement bathroom where Rupert feels compelled to do his dog business when the weather is too scary to venture outside the warm, dry safety of the den), tidy up the kitchen, take the dog for a short perambulation between storm bursts, charge the battery on the spud’s new cell phone, and look up book prices for fall classes. I also watched a couple episodes of Ramsay’s My Best Restaurant (not quite as much hollering and a few less f-bombs than Hell’s Kitchen or even Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares) with my favorite resident vampire before drifting off to sleep, dreaming of gritty, yet clean shaven, men.

Well, we have about 2 seconds of sunshine today. I should probably make some use of it.

Happy Tuesday to you all!

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5 Comments to “A big day at the Jones house full of random activity and absolutely nothing of substance”

  1. Since this is posted under Kindly Restrict Your Remarks to the Weather, I’m not allowed to ask “Boob toob”?

    • Boob toob, as in the telly? Maybe it’s a US slang term. I suppose it means you spend so much time watching the “tube” you turn into a “boob,” as in a brain-dead idiot, or sofa zombie? Anyway, it’s the category I use for comments on TV shows.

  2. Yeah, ‘boob toob’ makes me think of a once fashionable garment- clingy, strapless and barely containing the breasts- known as a boob tube. Bet you any money that’s what Tinman was thinking of too 😉

    • Mmmhmm. I, being some what of a clothing prude, never saw the point in such a garment, totally forgot about the other possible interpretation. Guess if he hadn’t we’d have to revoke his “man card.” But I like the pun on Kindly Restrict Your Remarks to the Weather all the same.

  3. Speccy, sadly, is right (I’ve found that women usually are).

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