YOU KNOW WHAT I NOTICE ...

now that I'm old?  T-shirts.  When you get to be in your 60's, for some reason designers start putting flowers and sayings on t-shirts.  It's like they want to dress us like toddlers and I don't get it!  Every time I see a nice white t-shirt and I pull it off the rack it has a freaking flower or a flag on it or some stupid saying.  What makes these designers think we want to dress like obese toddlers?  SOLIDS!  PLEASE!  DAMN IT!

I hate when my husband makes dinner.  I've whined about this before.  Yesterday he decided to make mahi-mahi in a garlic sauce with asparagus spears and a baked potato.  The problem?  He uses every freaking utensil in my silverware drawer and every pot, pan, cookie sheet, and whatever else he can find!  He leaves a freaking mess in the sink and then, because he knows I've had a stressful day he DOES THE DISHES.  AWWWW ... you're probably thinking -- how sweet.  NO.  

About an hour later I wander into the kitchen and see a PILE of "clean" dishes in the dish rack -- only, THEY'RE NOT CLEAN! I had to re-wash several of the bowls and almost all of the silverware.  Why does it take seven forks, six spoons and a butter knife to make mahi-mahi?

AND let's face it.  We women KNOW how to wash dishes.  "Washing dishes" does not mean just washing dishes.  It also means, cleaning the stove, cleaning the counters, scrubbing the sink, sweeping the kitchen and THEN you're done.  Men don't do it like that.  With a man there will usually be dishes that have not been washed properly, there is usually a very dirty stove with crumbs and drippings, and almost always a wet and dripping Handi-wipe in the sink.  Which means that I am going to have to pick up that soaking dirty rag and wring it out so that I don't get mosquitos and other disgusting gnats and stuff buzzing around in my kitchen. 

So I told him "DAN!  DO NOT DO DISHES ... EVERRRRRRRR!

There are, as we speak, four glasses and some coffee cups that I have to wash right now.  But at least I know they will be CLEAN and DISINFECTED by HOT WATER AND SOAP.  

So yesterday was a very stressful day for me.  I had to go into the office which means I get to drive 30 miles to the office and 30 miles back home.  I work REALLY FAR.  Luckily there was no traffic because the entire world is working remotely.  I had to pick up a new computer which is really awesome, but I had to download a lot of applications and get it set up.  Then I had to transport everything back home and put everything together and finish setting it up which meant assembling the computer.  OMG.  Put the thingy in the back by the battery, then snap the screen into the holder thing -- then plug in the monitor, then put the "tiny" computer pack into the space behind the screen, I'm getting sweaty just remembering it.  THEN the keyboard wouldn't work because the batteries that came in the box were bad.  Thank God I had batteries.  FINALLY, I had everything assembled and after spending several hours on the phone with our tech person, everything was finally up and running.  It is now approximately 3:30 pm.  When I finally logged on I had seventeen thousand emails.  SO I HAD TO WORK LATE INTO THE NIGHT.  

Do you know that when I go to the market and decide to check myself out I get all sweaty and nervous?  There is never room for all the groceries I purchased and that stupid computer keeps repeating "please place your products in the bagging area" when the freaking bagging area can only hold like maybe five items!  KILL ME. 

So yeah ... I'm telling you all of this because I think I might be one of those people who are highly sensitive.  When Dan got home he started asking me a billion questions about the computer, the keyboard, the internet, on and on and on and I'm trying to work, then my phone does not stop ringing and I had to take one call because I knew it was important and I ended up being on the phone for an HOUR.  As I'm talking on the phone, the TV is on, and Dan is on the phone as well, and I don't know if I've ever told you guys but Danny's voice is like a foghorn.  LOUD.  At that point I'm ready to scream and put a bullet in my head.  I FINALLY go upstairs, close the door and sit on my bed and finish my conversation.  

Highly sensitive people cannot deal with a lot of stimulus.  I think that is me.  Actually, IT IS ME.  OBVIOUSLY.  Too much noise, too many people, make me super anxious.  Especially if they're all in MY HOUSE at the same time yacking and talking.

So I took a test to determine if, In fact, I am a "highly sensitive" person.  I scored a 20 out of 25.  So yeah ... I am definitely a highly sensitive person.  As if I need yet another personal defect in my life to deal with.

So thanks for listening everyone.  I just had to get all this shit off my chest before I grew a tumor.  OH, and Ted Cruz is a DICK!