An Amarinda Sunday…

So, I woke up this morning and trudged downstairs in my pj’s looking for the Sunday newspaper. I believe this is quite a treat for the neighbours as they watch me searching all the possible places in the front yard the paper could lurk. Yes, I could get dressed to do this but on a Sunday in summer, due to humidity, I generally only wear shorts and a bra when at home. It’s not a pretty sight so I figure the lesser of two evils is me in my pjs with my naturally occurring feral hair. I don’t comb my hair on a Sunday. Why? I don’t want to.

Anyway, there was no paper this morning. Bugger. This meant I had to drag some relatively clean clothes on and drive over to get one. Just before I get there this man in an urban assault vehicle – you know the big ones with the bullbars – the car not the man – but in saying that some men need big cars to compensate for other things they don’t have – he nearly ran into my car because he seemed to believe the Stop sign did not apply to him. Luckily I stopped before a collision. Even on a Sunday, my senses are tuned in for nitwit alert. He gave me this look as if to say “stupid woman.” Prick. The only reason Ida,

my car, did not slam into his tank of a car was because one of us knew what we were doing. So I stop at the newsagents shop. He stopped as well. Excellent. He got out at the car and glared at me as if he wanted to have words with me. I glared back, feral hair and with that PMS glow some women do very well and walked towards him. I am in bring-it-on-mode. I have hormones to burn baby. He got that panic stricken look on his face that men do when they see a hormonal woman approach and he shot quickly into the newsagents. It appears he may have some brains after all. I followed in behind him. I got another paper – as did he and I said very sweetly “I guess you must be new to the neighbourhood, not knowing where the stop signs are. I would be happy to indicate the major ones out to you.” He looked at me with that ‘oh crap’ look and he mumbled “No thanks” and scuttled out of the store. I refuse to be intimidated by the strength of men. Sure, they’re bigger but that does not mean smarter.

It has been raining lightly here. Yay. We are still on water restrictions but that’s okay. I don’t think we’d know how to not be on restrictions anymore. With the day or two of wet weather all my laundry is under the house (enclosed area like a basement) and upstairs in various states of damp to wet. Yes, I could buy a dryer but for the amount of time it rains it seems a waste of money. Luckily having found the dead rat the other day, I don’t have to worry about the laundry smelling of eau le mort de rat. The rat – well wrapped is in the bin. I have to quickly chuck rubbish in there and slam down the lid due to the smell. Bin day is Thursday. It’s going to be a long, smelly week. Thankfully the bin is nowhere near the house. It’s closer to the vampire neighbour house and as I never see them in daylight and only hear them in the evening, it’s not my problem what they smell.

Dead animals are a pain in the bum to deal with aren’t they?

If they are on the road you ring the council and they magically collect them. If they are on your property you deal with them – and yes, I have thought of dumping said dead animals on the road but even I have some standards. I usually try to dump them in a neighbours bin. Let me explain - if someone has moved out of a house then their old bin is up to have stuff dumped in it. It’s an unwritten law. Though, I nearly got caught out once. I had a dead possum in my yard that a local cat had savaged. Thankfully this little murdering bastard has moved. He killed and maimed many things. Anyway, I knew the neighbours on the other side had moved out and their bin was still getting picked up every Thursday. So I collected the dead possum in a shopping bag and walked over to their bin – just as the new neighbours drove up. Crap. How do you explain why you are lurking by their bin with a dead possum in a bag? ‘Not like you can say you were out for a walk carrying a dead animal is it? I decided to go with pleasant and welcoming and pretend I held nothing in my hand. If they wondered what was in the bag and why it smelled they never said. People are so polite when they’re confused aren’t they?

The competition

What could you spend an eternity doing? What is your passion? Your hunger? Your deepest desire? Each day beginning February 5 and running through February 14 one of the ten authors will complete the line, "My darling I could spend eternity…" on either their blog or website. Collect all ten answers and e-mail them to anny@annycook.com with Eternally Yours in the subject line to win some hot, romantic books. There will be three lucky Valentine winners.

The prizes –

1st prize--5 books

2nd prize--3 books

3rd prize--2 books

The books

Sandra Cox Silverhills
Mona Risk To Love a Hero
Brynn Paulin Tribute For the Goddess
Bronwyn Green Mystic Circle
Cindy Spencer Pape Stone and Earth
N.J. Walters Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke
Elyssa Edwards Mating Stone
Amarinda Jones Shades of Gray
Kelly Kirch Time for Love
Anny Cook Honeysuckle

Entries must be in by February 16 at midnight EST. All books and prize winners will be drawn randomly.

Anny is talking about how to make clothes out of matchsticks on www.annycook.blogspot.com and Kelly is showing her perky side on www.kkirch.blogspot.com.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?