Wednesday, June 2, 2010

139 Good Things about Unemployment

139. You totally agree with Beth Mann: Doing stuff is overrated. http://open.salon.com/blog/beth_mann/2010/05/31/doing_stuff_is_overrated

138. A carefree morning with mystery poop in your living room. According to the Identification Key to Scat from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and referenced on the Internet Center for Wildlife Damage Management, I've concluded that this pictured deposit is the result of a snake eating a mouse. I'm absolutely delighted. When I see my new friend, I will serve him another mouse on one of my few unchipped plates. Sorry Stuart Little, but I’ll take a snake any day over a mouse. Mice should be the Patron Saints of regularity, while snakes poop only on holidays. What a great morning! Oh, by the way, here is what to do if a snake starts to eat you according to http://discovermagazine.com/1994/apr/diningwiththesna362: The next time you find a python starting to swallow you by the arm--as happened recently to a 21-year-old woman cleaning her hungry 12- foot-long, 60-pound pet python's cage--don't pull back. You'll just get badly cut, and you won't get free. Instead remain calm, ask someone to pry the snake's jaws open, push your arm in further until the teeth disengage, and then pull your arm out.

137. Memorial Day is full of flowers and you don't have to report to work tomorrow.

136. Although there is a Sneaky Way To Leave Work Early and Arrive Late Without Getting Caught (http://www.howcast.com/en/videos/218146-How-To-Leave-Work-Early-and-Arrive-Late-Without-Getting-Caught), you don’t have that problem.

135. You sing Wild Thing while photographing one of your favorite new blooms: Orange Hawkweed. As The Troggs sang…Wild thing you make my heart sing. You make everything groooovy.

134. Although this poppy will not bring you sleep, you can stop and enjoy its intricate beauty.

133. You welcome your new neighbors with a handful of grubs.

132. You can spend the whole day chasing your dog. This photo of our dog captures yesterday's scene for me. Buddy, our 85-pound mutt, was due at the veterinarian at noon for shots. The vet’s office is a half-hour drive. At 11:15 a.m., Buddy was not on the porch. It was raining. I yelled for him every five minutes until 11:35 when I called the vet. The receptionist said I had until 1:00 p.m. to get him there. At 12:20, I gave up looking for him. Soaked and cold, I’d fallen after being snagged by a tree and tore out the rear of my favorite jeans. I lit a fire in the stove and sat down. Buddy showed up, muddy and wet. After I tried to cover the seats of my car with a sheet and blanket, we left. We pulled up to the vet’s office and I opened the door for him. He leaped out before I could grab the leash and took off. Two employees of the vet’s office helped me chase him down. The visit was short and I put Buddy back in the car before I paid the bill so he wouldn’t eat the miniature Terrier yipping at him. On the way home, I stopped at our auto repair shop to see when I could get an appointment. As I was talking to our mechanic, Buddy leaped from the car. I have no explanation other than I must not have shut the car door all the way and somehow he got it open. On went the chase again: In the rain and mud, by the river and on Highway 22. I went home without him, leaving my phone number with folks I talked with along the way. Checking the phone at home, there was a message; Buddy was back with our mechanic. Although I felt like leaving him there, our mechanic is too valuable to irritate. I retrieved the muddy mutt and drove home again. Buddy was lucky he got dinner last night. Today, I’ve got to get the dirty dog smell out of my car. The sun is shining and that darn dog ain’t going nowhere.
P.S. LATER: I just finished cleaning the mud and gold dog hair from the black interior of my Corolla while it sat on our gravel driveway. Buddy kept circling the car becoming increasingly excited that he was going somewhere. You don't want to know where I told him to go. I was nice and polite, but direct.
P.S. LATER STILL: Bill, my partner, told me where to go too when I bitched at him all night to compensate for how Buddy treated me all day. And my car still smells like wet dog. I suppose things could be worse. It could smell like dead dog.

131. You meet your match at a roller derby game.

\\\ For Good Things numbered 121 through 130, see 130 Good Things about Unemployment posted May 14, 2010.
For Good Things numbered 111 through 120, see 120 Good Things about Unemployment posted April 29, 2010.
For Good Things numbered 101 through 110, see 110 Good Things about Unemployment posted April 16, 2010.
For Good Things numbered 1 through 100, see 100 Good Things about Unemployment posted April 3, 2010. ///

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