Time and Tide Wait for No (Wo)man

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If forty is the new thirty, fifty the new forty, sixty the new fifty and so on – when do you ever get a chance to relax?  To age gracefully with peace and dignity?

If the above are rallying cries for holding on to one’s youthful spirit and enthusiasm - great.  But if they’re merely in regard to appearance?  Then I find them oppressive, time consuming and ridiculous.

I’ve decided to embrace aging.  Not to the extent of finding each wrinkle endearing and letting everyone know its origin (“…and this one was created when I accidently dropped my second son over a cliff…”) but in the sense of withdrawing from the battle, the laying down of weapons.  Which isn’t particularly difficult to do since I’ve never been fully engaged in the battle.  My only weapon has been hair dye.*  However, I’ve always been very aware of that not-so-subtle pressure to RETAIN YOUR YOUTHFUL LOOKS.  I’ve finally had enough.  I’M NOT LISTENING ANYMORE.

I don’t count basic moisturizer a weapon, I don’t wear make-up (skin sensitivity) and I’ve never had “work” done.  Truly.  Unless you count wart removal cosmetic surgery.  Which I don’t and nor should you.  A wart on the bottom of your foot really, really hurts – but I digress…

As for those five lbs. that keep coming and going?  Well, they’re welcome to stay.  I’m not fighting them any more.  Those determined little buggers can take over the areas they’ve been coveting for years – my belly and hips.  I don’t care.  Mi casa es su casa.

If my sisters and certain friends are reading this, I promise I will not let myself go completely.  I will maintain certain standards and you’ll still be okay being seen with me in public.  I just might look like your mother rather than a contemporary.  And I’ll be wearing an always-in-fashion, ageless, contented and happy smile. 

 an unretouched photo depicting a DIY wrinkle remover gesture by a crazed woman

*Confession – a bit of vanity remains - I think I’ll give up the hair dye next summer – have my head shorn - retreat to the cottage and see what appears…

Odds and Ends

1. Finally had my car washed.  (It’s only been about six months.)  Next day – huge bird poop splatter on the windshield.  Coincidence?  I think not.  Why do I bother?

2. If you owed someone a little over $1000.00 – and had the money to do so – wouldn’t you pay up as soon as possible?  I would.

3. With this unusual summer-like weather we’re having, I’ve been opening my bedroom windows – and spending the nights sneezing.  What’s with the night air?  And why have I developed allergies at this point in my life?

4. Still dealing with matters regarding my mother - the latest as to her name being inscribed below my father’s on the cemetery plaque.  I realize legal, financial and other such matters will continue for quite awhile.  Still, they manage to pack quite a punch.

5. My older sister: (after weighing herself on my scale)

“Your scale is off – it’s about four or five lbs. too light.”

Me: (after my initial “uh-oh”)

“Why can’t you assume it’s correct?  That would make you happier and keep me semi-happy.”

5. For the “Books” part of BooksEtc. - recently read and very much enjoyed:

A Train in Winter: An Extraordinary Story of Women, Friendship, and Resistance in Occupied France - Caroline Moorehead 

(I had no idea the guillotine was used during World War II.)

The Needle’s Eye - Margaret Drabble

Sanctuary Line – Jane Urquhart

The Forgotten Waltz – Anne Enright

The Sense of Ending – Julian Barnes

A Widow for One Year – John Irving

(Such a delightful surprise – thought I’d already read it – hadn’t!)

The Weird Sisters – Eleanor Brown

(Being one of three sisters, the title caught my eye)

photo credit: google images

Okay? Okay!

A friend of mine who recently asked if I’m okay (and received an eye-roll in response) sent me this.  Funny lady.

Ever have days or weeks like this?

Crazy times.

What Are The Odds?

I own a small car.  If I end up parked between two huge SUVs, backing up is a challenge.  I don’t have a clue what or who may be coming behind in either direction.

Obviously, my parking spot of choice is between two small or normal-sized cars.  However, when I manage to get this coveted spot, invariably one or both cars have been replaced by an SUV upon my return to the parking lot.

Using a perverse sort of logic, on occasion I’ve deliberately parked between two SUVs, hoping at least one will have been replaced by a smaller car by the time I return.  This rarely, rarely happens.  They’re either still there or another SUV has taken one of the spots.

The day the picture below was taken, I’d parked between two small/normal sized cars.  What a shocker when heading back to my car and seeing this!  Despite my consternation, I laughed.  Thwarted – BIG TIME.

Note - there are no cars parked to my left.  I’m assuming no one wanted to be near that massive truck.  Which actually made it easier for me to get out.  I simply backed up a bit, turned left & used all that empty space to get out.

And that, my friends, is the sort of half-assed luck life presents me with – but it’s better than no luck at all.

Other Worlds

I have new next door neighbours – a very nice family.  They’re not moving in until renovations and improvements are completed.  (The husband predicts February - the wife, April.  My money’s on the wife.)  While the noise is horrendous, I find their reno process intriguing.  I’ve seen many renovations in the neighbourhood, but never anything like this:

In order to gain access to the backyard, they dug through the basement!  How odd but ingenious is that?!  (Well, I think it is or I wouldn’t be writing this post.)  Demolishing the garage wasn’t an option – won’t bore you with the details as to why.  This underground access appeals to my sense of fantasy – it’s like a secret passage to another world!  However, I can see that other world when looking out my back windows and right now it’s not a pretty sight.

The crew is clearing away just about every bit of vegetation to make way for new landscaping and a swimming pool!  Personally, if I’d wanted a swimming pool built I’d have bought a house providing easy access to the backyard, but, hey, to each his own.  Imagine the digger machines (or whatever they’re called) and the cement getting through that passageway? 

It can be done!

 
That “tree-eater” made it through.  (Jeez, I wish I knew the names of some of these machines.)  Can you spot the seemingly dead tree branch hanging over the fence?  It belonged to me.  I didn’t even know it existed until the crew removed all the massively overgrown cedar trees on the other side of the fence.  When asked for my permission to remove it, I said, “Hell, yes!”  Good thing they asked because, quite frankly, I could have lived with the view of that branch for years before spending any more money on “repairs” around here.

The vegetation in my back yard took quite a beating from those old cedars – stunted and weird shaped growth.  One of my sons suggested I have the worst of it removed.  My response?  No.  If they managed to survive despite being overwhelmed by those cedars all these years, they deserve to live – in whatever shape.

Meanwhile, the noise continues – as do my occasional headaches from the kabooms, pounding and screeching machines.  But I am such a nice neighbour.  No complaints.  Yet.  Six more months to go…

Walk It Off...

In the past month or so I’ve gained five pounds. Two are an okay addition to the mix. The other three are not and bathing suit season is nearly upon us.

The number on the scale will continue to rise if I don’t do something - or stop doing something. Ending my current addiction to chocolate pudding cups and red licorice would be an excellent start.

So far, my weight loss/fitness plans consist of coming across various methods to achieve my goals on the Rogers Yahoo news page. I diligently copy and paste these articles to Word and have a folder labeled “Miscellaneous.” (A more specific label would depress me each time my desktop appeared.)

Two tips I’ve discovered:

1. Walking – lose 20 pounds in six months with a brisk 20 minute daily walk. I don’t have six months before I don a bathing suit in public but since I only have three pounds to lose this should be doable. Math is not my strong suit (hah!) but by my calculations if one can lose 20 pounds in 180 days I could lose 3 pounds in 27 days. Or one pound in 9 days. If I don’t bring my Twizzlers (the licorice) with me.

2. Grapefruit - start every meal with either half a grapefruit or a glass of grapefruit juice and lose about half a pound a week. No dieting required. Or exercise. I like this one – very much. I’m buying some grapefruit today but I’m wondering if sprinkling sugar on the grapefruit will nullify the intended effects. I can’t stand grapefruit without sugar.

I am currently searching the Internet for an exercise regimen that consists of visualization techniques only – no actual exercise required. The mind is a powerful thing.

Yes, I am lazy, unfit and ridiculous.

If I put as much energy into losing the weight and becoming fit as I do the research, I would be a vision to behold. Not sure of what, though.



photo credit: http://www.runningtrainers.org.uk/images/oldtrainers.jpg

Enough Already...

“There will be no crying because the crying has crouched low in the sockets behind her eyes, and hiding there, it transforms itself. This is crying’s best magic, transforming itself into withdrawal and weariness and a low-grade, humming strength.”

~Bonnie Burnard – Suddenly


I wrote a serious tear-jerker of a post to accompany the above quotation, read it over this morning and decided to scrap it. Enough with the boo-hoo poor little old me stuff.

Yeah, I cry, I get weary and I’m strong. The same can be said about most people – if guys would admit to crying.

I’m all for expressing your feelings on your blog, encourage others to do so and have done my fair share of whining. I just don’t feel like it today. I’m in more of a “shit happens, deal with it” mood.

But I must say, writing that scrapped post was cathartic.

On a lighter note, I’ve managed to indulge in some “farting around” since my last post and despite life’s most recent hellish challenge. I will be damned sure to incorporate more of the same in my life. It keeps me sane. Laughter keeps me sane.

Has anyone got any good jokes they’d like to share?

Truth or Dare/Setting the Record Straight

"There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet…"

T. S. Eliot
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


That photo on my previous post? The “Biker Goth” one? (Thank you, Guy.) Confession. Such a look was a mere blip on the timeline of my life – as in, a one-time occasion. One night, to be precise.

I’d attended a business/social function to which the wearing of a costume from any decade was optional. I choose “Motorcycle Mamma.” (Thank you, Bodhi Chicklet.)

Key word in the invitation was optional – most people chose not to wear any costume. Went as themselves. Boring...

The most delightful, humorous aspect of the evening? (Aside from my look.) I’d never met the majority of people there and so when introduced, these people didn’t know what to make of me. "Is this what's she's really like??” They didn’t have the nerve to ask if I was in costume. I let them wonder for awhile. Gotcha! Loved it.

If you look closely at the photo you’ll see that my earring and nose ring consisted of paper clips. And that small metal piercing below my lower lip? The metal bit was held on with a magnet on the inside of my mouth. (Had to remove it in order to eat.) If the picture was in colour, you’d be able to see that my hair was purple – dyed with grape Kool-Aid.

Hell, sometimes it’s fun to present yourself to the world as someone you’re really not - get out of your own skin for a bit. Shake things up.

I probably do this in more subtle ways every day. I think we all do.


Loved the comments!

HandyMe

I have registered for a “Handy Person’s Course.” (Actual title…gender neutral…good start…)

God help the instructor. I could do with a small miracle, too.

Do you think it will be essential to know and/or recognize all the various tools? Because I won’t. I was kind of hoping the course description would include the reassuring words, “No prior knowledge and/or skills required.” It didn’t. The “Auto Maintenance for Beginners” did but that’s not happening – car engines intimidate me.

The course I’m taking is for “…anyone who wants to learn to repair an electrical plug (yikes!), fix a leaky faucet (sounds okay), re-hang or install a new door…”

The door bit gave me pause. How do you install a door if you can’t even lift one? Fortunately, I don’t need a new door in my home. Yet. Knock on wood.

I’m a good sport. If anyone in the class makes fun of me, I can take it. But if good-natured teasing turns into ridicule, I’m out of there. That, or they’ll be on the receiving end of a soft-spoken but sincere, “F**k you” from sweet, nice Beth. Appearances can be deceiving.

Wish me luck.


P.S.
Drats. I ended up on the waiting list!
The good news is there must be lots of people just like me (tool-impaired).
The bad news is, of course, I am not assured of a spot.
Perhaps I'm destined to pay for the skills of others and to continue with my own haphazard and make-shift repair methods?
It is out of my hands - so to speak.
Que sera sera.


photo credit: www.toptipspot.com/.../fix-leaky-faucet.php

Wow

Well, last night jolted me out of my back-at-home stupor. And I discovered that I don’t panic while under a tornado warning and during a raging, blustery, severe storm.

But I do yell.

At the TV weather station with its repeated advice to “Take All Safety Precautions.”

“What the hell are they??!!”

At my eldest who went outside to enjoy the storm before we knew of a possible tornado.

“Get the hell inside the house!!”

At my second eldest for even considering heading out to his scheduled hockey game.

“You’ll only go carrying me on your back!!”

I did not yell at my youngest. He called from the camp where he works up North to see if we were all okay. They were experiencing a severe thunder storm. The camp was without power and all the children had been herded into one building.

What an experience. Such weather conditions are rare for Toronto and while we remained relatively unscathed, parts of Southern Ontario did not.

I’m not liking the weather this summer.

And I do believe we have well and truly screwed up the planet.

Moving

My eldest son is moving out on Wednesday. He has not packed one thing. I fear he is simply going to leave with suitcase in hand.

I could scream. I have restrained myself because he’s been sick for the past week, still going to work and basically passing out with fatigue when he gets home. (But he could have done some packing prior to this past week!)

Part of me (the lazy part) wishes that when I finally move from this house, I could simply walk out with one or two (maybe three) suitcases. The thought of sorting through, getting rid of and/or packing 22 years of accumulated junk is daunting.

Would anyone like to buy a house filled with the contents of my lifetime? (And probably some of my son’s as well.)

Included is my childhood paper doll collection.

I figure that’s gotta be a deal clincher right there.



Photo credit: http://www.everydayart.com/image/suitcase.jpg

Dumb as a Post?

So, based on feedback from my woe-is-me-i’ve-got-bloggers-block post, the consensus is I should write only when the spirit moves me, whatever I please and not fear boring or offending anyone.

Here goes….

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I’m still hurting from attending my son’s graduation ceremony. Not in an achy breaky sentimental heart way but with BACK PAIN! Three hours of sitting at the convocation, sitting at lunch (had to eat) and the drive home. Oh, my god. I actually had one of my sons check to see if my spine is bruised. It isn’t. At least not on the outside. This too shall pass…with the aid of pharmaceuticals…

Another (boring?) item.

Take your thumb and Peter Pointer finger – place them almost touching one another but not quite. THAT’S how small I felt listening to the ten minute (each) professional résumés of two distinguished gentlemen who received a “Degree of Laws honoris causa.” I’m assuming that means an honourary degree. My Latin is rusty and I’m too lazy to look it up.

You could sum up my life accomplishments in under 30 seconds.

And here’s another gem – someone (not giving out any names) received a PhD having written the following thesis (and I’m making some of the words unrecognizable for fear of leading anyone to this blog):

The Regu*ation and Function of Hypo**ia-Inducib*e Fa*tor 2∂ (H*F-2∂) in an Immortalized Adreno**dullary Chro*afin Ce** Line.

Trust me. Even if I hadn’t used that “*” you probably wouldn’t recognize what the heck this thesis was all about. If you do know, leave a comment. You will impress the hell out of me. As did the person who wrote it.

(Spell check didn’t even recognize some of these words – nor do I think I found the correct symbol for the ∂ thingy.)

I am so humbled.

On a more positive, cheery note, it was a thrill watching my son walk across that podium. I restrained myself - did not yell out his name at that solemn moment but I did frantically wave my arms when he first entered the auditorium until he spotted me. I could still move at that point.

And if any of my sons decide to go to graduate school, I’m requesting a La-Z-Boy reclining chair for the next convocation ceremony.

Multiple Choice

Have been absent from the blogging scene lately because:

a) have been busy (mostly in my mind)

b) had a wicked headache and avoided the computer (almost lost my mind)

c) have so much to write about I don’t know where to begin to start

d) have so little to write about I can’t begin to start

e) have taken a lover and find myself pleasantly preoccupied

f) took a crash course in home repairs and have successfully completed all previously mentioned repair jobs around here

e) no apparent reason (or no apparent reason I care to elaborate on…)

f) all of the above (which would make absolutely no sense at all!!)


Anyway, I’m back and making the rounds…

My Apologies...

Perhaps you have to visit or live in Canada to be aware of this strange idiosyncrasy of ours, but Canadians are notorious for saying, “I’m sorry” – usually shortened to “Sorry.”

And I don’t mean sorry in the sense of apologising for something we should indeed apologise for having done - although we do that, too.

Canadians will say “Sorry” on numerous (inappropriate) occasions. If someone bumps their grocery cart into another person’s cart or into that person’s vulnerable, unsuspecting body, the “bumpee” (or injured party) will immediately say, “Sorry.” This recently happened to me and, yes, I automatically said, “Sorry” when metal met hip. Hence the prompt for this post.

We will say “Sorry” whenever we are bumped into – either by a person or a thing being pushed by a person. We also say it when someone simply gets in our way – going through a door, up the stairs, onto an escalator… The possibilities and opportunities for us to utter the word are endless. We are over-the-top polite. Or strange. Or both.

The crazy (or crazier) thing is that the “bumper” or person responsible for the incident prompting the unwarranted apology also says, “Sorry” so we have two people apologising for the same incident. Of course, one of the two should be legitimately sorry. But why the other, “Sorry”? Indeed, one is sorry to have been hit by a grocery cart (it can hurt) but in an apologetic way??? But that’s exactly the inflection we give the word.

(Is this post as clear as mud???)

Anyway, if you are a visitor to Canada don’t be alarmed by the number of “Sorrys” you hear. Do not wonder about or go looking for any legitimate reason someone might be apologising to you. It could be a result of something you did – you might have inadvertently given someone a slight nudge and not even be aware of having done so.

This random bit of Canadian legend and lore has meandered on long enough. Sorry. I’ll end it now – don’t want to bore you….

See? Way too many apologies in this country – why should I be sorry for a long post? If you were bored you could have stopped reading it after the first few paragraphs.

Would That I Could...

"Good-bye. I am leaving because I am bored."

George Saunders


Be honest. Don’t you wish you had the nerve to say that at certain times? Or, better yet, that it was a socially acceptable thing to say?

The “good-bye” bit adds a nice touch. Kind of softens the blow. (Maybe.)

Think of all the places you might like to use such an escape clause – meetings, mandatory social functions, parties, listening to speeches or having been introduced (by a friend!) to an excruciatingly boring person…

And since I’m already clutching a one way ticket to hell (prior sins), I’ll even add sermons to the list. When I was a churchgoer, it pained me to hear the minister begin his sermon with the words, “This morning I will be covering four points….” So, you listen attentively to the first point, sort of drift off during the second and - BAM – are suddenly alert and dismayed when you hear him say, “Now on to my third point.” We’re only on the third point?!! No more drifting. Now you’re antsy sitting on that pew.

Anyway, back to my original point. Yes, I was recently (as in, yesterday) caught in a boring conversation. I remained polite throughout. But if such an expression were socially acceptable (did not hurt anyone’s feelings) I would have used it.

It occurs to me as I write that people might feel the same way when stuck in conversation with me - might wish to take their leave of me. Ouch.

At least I’m not at the point where I bore myself – it would be awfully difficult to say good-bye and leave under those circumstances. So far, me, myself and I find me to be excellent company.



For those of you who might be curious as to the origins of the word good-bye (as I was) here’s a brief history from Bartleby.com

“No doubt more than one reader has wondered exactly how goodbye is derived from the phrase “God be with you.” To understand this, it is helpful to see earlier forms of the expression, such as God be wy you, god b'w'y, godbwye, god buy' ye, and good-b'wy. The first word of the expression is now good and not God, for good replaced God by analogy with such expressions as good day, perhaps after people no longer had a clear idea of the original sense of the expression. A letter of 1573 written by Gabriel Harvey contains the first recorded use of goodbye: “To requite your gallonde [gallon] of godbwyes, I regive you a pottle of howdyes,” recalling another contraction that is still used.”


Love that! A pottle of howdyes!

Of Books & Backs & Tea

If you take pleasure in reading books and the occasional cup of tea….

And you happen to have a somewhat wonky one of these…




Then when you see an image like this….




And this….




Your fancy is tickled.


Well, they happened to tickle my fancy. (Love that expression. But what is a fancy? Where is it located? And just because something happens to tickle one’s fancy does that mean all fancies are ticklish? I digress…)

Credit for those last two images to a brochure published by The Ontario Chiropractic Association. And while I acknowledge that countless people find success via chiropractic treatment, I don’t happen to be one of them. The combination of the words MANIPULATION, ADJUSTMENT, CAVITATION* and BETH’S BACK sends shivers up that spine of mine.

I’ll stick with my own tried and true methods which continue to keep me fit, supple, mobile – and dancing!

But I certainly do appreciate the creativity that went into the making of those images.



*Cavitation:
“The technical term for the popping noise (ouch <— my word) made during an adjustment. It’s not your bones ‘cracking,’ but the release of a gas bubble when the pressure between the joints is relieved.”

This isn’t a very polite question to ask (and reveals my rather base and crude thought processes) but where does that gas go when it’s released?? Best case scenario – you emit a burp during treatment?

Have been feeling a bit under the weather these past few days.

A bowl of hot chicken noodle soup really does make you feel a bit better.

But here’s a heads up. Those little packets of saltine crackers wrapped in cellophane? Despite the packaging, they have a shelf life. They do get stale – and they do go bad. And when they’ve reached the point of bad, they smell. Foul.

Here’s to good health – and fresh crackers.


(And, hey, youngest son – if you’re taking a break and reading this, hope you’re feeling better. I think you got it worse than I did.)

Bells and Whistles

I got myself a cell phone! (Please, mute the laughter and no rolling of the eyes.)

Yes, I’ve emerged from the dark ages and joined the ranks of the-stay-connected-all-the-time crowd. Truthfully? I have no intention of staying connected 24/7. I know how to turn it OFF.

My experience with cell phones is limited. I had one many, many years ago. It died from lack of use. Since that time, cell phones became the accessory du jour but I was immune to their siren call.

My next experience took place in London last fall. AMC set me up with his extra cell phone (extra???) so we could stay in touch and/or in case I ended up in some dire emergency. (I didn’t.)

I sent him a text message once. In the time it took me to compose the text, I could have walked to where he was working (miles away) and just told him what I had to say. Or phoned. But I was determined to master texting – and I did. Sort of. Anyway, he didn’t laugh at any mistakes I’d made – or he just told me he didn’t laugh and I chose to believe him.

At this point in time, my immunity began to wear off. It was kind of fun playing with that little gadget. Perhaps it was time for a new toy for Beth?

My kids have been urging me to buy a cell phone for years. “What if your car breaks down, Mom?” (They know to play on my greatest fears.) “What if you’re in an accident?” (If I was, I figured I probably wouldn’t be in any shape to make a call.)

Last weekend, I finally succumbed to the disease/craze. Since I lack an intuitive approach to such technology, the boys have been a great help in showing me how to use my (wow, it’s skinny) new cell phone. However, SHOW & TELL is not a 100% successful method to teach me how to do or use anything. I need the written word as well. I’ve skimmed through a 97 page PDF instruction manual while sitting at the computer with my new toy by my side.

Elisabeth Stewart is now making and receiving calls.

However, she is still trying to figure out how to use all the bells and whistles – and she doesn’t “do” text messaging.

Like A Rolling Stone...

I’ve been busy this past little while trying to get my life in order - or, at least, organized and on track. (And not because of any premonition as to my imminent demise.)

But, honestly, can one ever really accomplish such a task? And “the task” is usually composed of numerous little ones.

While there’s satisfaction to be found in making the attempt (and sometimes you have no choice but to make such an attempt) more often than not I feel like Sisyphus – that figure in Greek mythology. He was the one condemned for eternity to push a rock or boulder up a mountain only to have it roll down again.

And while my efforts don’t seem quite as meaningless or futile (they better not be!), still, the boulder can be bloody heavy. And even if I did manage to get the damn thing to the top of the mountain and make it stay, there are always plenty more boulders waiting to be lugged up the mountain again.

(Am I making any sense???)

Of course, the alternative is having no boulders to deal with at all. And that would make for a pretty dull life.

Perhaps having one’s life in order is not all it’s cracked up to be. Living with a bit of uncertainty and chaos can’t be all bad. Can it? It’s definitely never dull.

On the Road

Some of our neighbourhood streets are reduced to one lane in the winter months due to parked cars and humongous mounds of snow. Ever the polite queue abiding Canadian, I take my turn to stop and wave others through those narrow spots.

But when the other driver doesn’t give me the customary wave of acknowledgment or nod of thanks? I’m rather hurt and disappointed – way out of proportion to the incident itself. (Yes, I can be somewhat oversensitive – even on the road.)

This is not to say I’m incapable of road rage. The air is occasionally blue within the confines of my car when I encounter the mind-numbing stupidity of other drivers. (One’s own driving skills are rarely viewed as stupid.)

And I often have a great time driving – singing my little heart out to my favourite tunes.

Driving is a microcosm of life itself. One experiences the highs, the lows and the in-betweens. And re-fueling is a must.

An occasional washing is good, too – although this is where my life differs from that microcosm thing. Many are appalled at how infrequently I have my car washed. I'm of the opinion nature does a great job. But I’m thinking the underside of my car is due to be cleaned of all that de-icing junk. And when I think it’s time, it’s way past due.

It’s also time to have all the dog hair inside the car vacuumed out.

And that’s called moving on…