Tag Archives: clutter

Random nonsense

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Whoever said if you don’t like the weather in Maine, wait a minute wasn’t kidding.

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This is what early June looks like. It’s enough to give you whiplash.

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Another one bites the woodchuck dust. It was a fully bloomed stock. Graceful stalks filled with fragrant pink blossoms. May she rest in peace.

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Route 1 in Wiscasset was closed last week due to an accident. Apparently the Wicked Witch was in town.

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This hall closet contains coats, (spell check changed that to goats which would have been much more blog worthy, sorry) assorted LL Bean bags, a pair of snow boots, extension cords, a pillow, two blankets, a step stool, 4 umbrellas, a lobster pot and the air conditioner we just put in the window.

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Since it’s always full of the aforementioned clutter, Lord Dudley Mountcatten only gets to explore it twice a year and made me wait half an hour to put all the stuff back in there.

Cats.

They’re easily amused.

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Random stuff cluttering up my phone.

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Am I the only one who does this? You see something and think to yourself… I need to blog that. Then you save it on your camera roll only to have it languish there for weeks because it doesn’t deserve its own post?

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Yeah, like that. Weird, probably worthy of a joke, but not enough to build a blog around.

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And I’m sure that’s perfectly delightful, for everyone but the chicken who’s suffocating in a plastic bubble and probably terrified at the cornucopia of sweaty flesh on display at the shore… but an entire post? No.

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Maine real estate has always been high, but right now it’s absolutely insane. When the average median price for a house is 3/4’s of a million? You know people have lost their minds. And in case you’re wondering, the cheapest price shown is in a town that was nothing but redneck trailers and two bedroom ranches a decade or so ago.

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Yes, I could blog about how no one but the wealthy can afford a home up here anymore… but that’s too depressing.

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So I’ll end with Lord Dudley Mountcatten helping me make the bed.

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Needless to say, the bed did not get made that morning.

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So I got excited.

 

 

No, not that kind of excited.

Although now that I think about Chris… well, never mind.

I got excited because at 11:00am last Saturday the husband told me he was going to clean out the barn and set up a small yard sale.

My husband was going to get rid of his crap?

 

 

I was happy!

 

 

I was thrilled!

 

 

Hell, I admit it.

I was positively orgasmic.

 

 

I looked out the window and saw him sell something to a biker.

Yay!

 

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All the useless Harley knick knacks and paraphernalia…. gone!

All those extra Kawasaki parts and accessories…. gone!

And then I looked out the window again.

 

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And saw my late mother’s plant stand that I use on the porch…. gone.

My glass hummingbird feeders…. gone.

I was no longer excited.

 

 

And when I went outside to check exactly what it was he was selling?

 

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Yeah.

It was 100% mine.

Bags of clothes slated for Salvation Army donation, kitchen ware I was going to give his niece who’s moving into her first apartment, books that I trade with a friend.

He even had my hydrangea fertilizer on the table.

 

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But the worst part? The part that really had my jaw clenched….

He set this all up, and left.

Went to visit his brother and expected me to sit there and sell all the items I had no intention of selling in the first place.

 

 

The man has a death wish.

There’s really no other explanation that makes sense.