MOTHRA

 

MOTHRA

It was 1 AM.  Mrs. C and I had put away our PC’s.  The TV and cable were set to go off in 90 minutes, and our latest favorite falling asleep in bed show “The Walton’s” was on.

“Good night Mrs. C.”

“Good night Cranky Old Man.”

Before I drifted off to sleep a shadow passed over the light cast by the TV set.  It was huge.

“Wake up!  There is a large bat in the room!”

It passed the set again, just a moth.

“It’s just a moth, it won’t hurt anything, go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep with that thing in the room.”

I got out of bed, grabbed my electric swatter and with my hobbled bad back gait set off to electrocute the intruder.

Hitting a moth with a swatter is like making contact with a Phil Niekro knuckleball.  It ain’t easy.  I flailed away and several times almost fell over in the attempt.  Finally it flew above then on top the headboard on the bed.

I climbed gingerly up the bed ready to take on Mothra.  He was gone.

“He’s gone, go to sleep.”

I went back to bed.

 

“Not with that creature still in the room…wait; there he is again in front of the TV.”

We both crawled out of bed, Mrs. C now with the electric swatter, I grabbed a magazine.  We were about to pounce when the TV went temporarily blank for a commercial break and Mothra disappeared.

“CRAP!”

“Just wait, he will be back.”

And after a few minutes he did come back to that moth attracting TV light.  I went to swat it against the screen.

“If you break the TV, I will kill you!”

I held up and Mrs. C trapped it resting on the TV stand but blocked so she could not press down to electrocute the beast.

“Get a tissue!”

“Let me smack it.”

“GET A TISSUE!”

I quick grabbed a tissue and as she lifted the trapping swatter I tissued the creature. 

Mothra squished and flushed down the toilet; we went back to bed.

Mrs. C was asleep in about 12 seconds because she can just do that.

I had mass quantities of adrenaline rushing through my veins.  I had to re-adjust the TV and cable timers and was up for two episodes of “The Walton’s” before I finally fell asleep.

It is never dull around the Cranky House.

The Persnickety Mrs. C

 

The Persnickety Mrs. C

 

There are several thing about which Mrs. C is especially persnickety.  

(That’s right…PERSNICKETY!  I am old and proud of it.)

She gets angry when she takes the car in for service and someone changes her seat adjustment.  She claims it takes forever for her to get it “Just right” again. 

I almost paid an additional $200 a month on a car lease to get one with an automatic seat adjustment setting.  Common sense did kick in, especially as it was to be my car, I opted for a Honda over a Cadillac.

Anyway, she is very particular about any of her things, especially when it effects adjustments.

The other night I wanted to try on her bowling glove.  She doesn’t bowl much, but she uses the glove to prevent that carpool-tunnel thing you get from using your computer keyboard a lot.

My bowling glove is too large, I was talked into an extra-large probably as the shop did not have a large.  It has stretched out a bit and now does not fit correctly. 

Without asking, I started to try on Mrs. C’s “Small” glove to get an idea what size to order on-line.

She went ballistic. 

“Don’t change the setting!  It is just right for me to be able to slip on and off without having to adjust the straps.”

“Ooh, adjust those Velcro straps…what a nightmare!”

“Just don’t touch it.”

Last week, I tweaked my back bowling.  Mrs. C has a back brace which also has adjustable Velcro straps.  Since she has to readjust it every time she uses it, unlike the glove, I thought maybe she would let me borrow it for bowling.  It was with great trepidation that I approached her about trying it on and maybe borrowing it until I could order one for myself.

“Er…ah…I was…”

“What did you do now?”

“Do you think maybe I could try on your back brace and use it tonight for bowling?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why, how could I possible ruin or change an elastic back brace?”

“Because you don’t need my brace.”

“Maybe not, but it might keep me from tweaking my back again; damn you and your persnicketyness!”

I was getting a bit miffed over her reluctance to share, even at the expense of my bad back.

“Because last week when you told me you tweaked your back, I ordered a brace your size just for you.”

Well now I felt pretty small.

It did fit perfectly and my back was fine after bowling.

It takes a good wife to think ahead for her husband’s need, but only Mrs. C knows how to hold on to such a gesture in a way to maximize the deed and make me look small and petty.

Or do all wives have this ability?

 

Lighten up Old People

 

Lighten up Old People

I started this blog thing nine years ago.  In those days everyone was blogging.  Blogging was the snap thing, the tic-toc, U-Tube of the time.

Blogging was kind of new and people thought they could actually make money blogging.  I think maybe some people did make money from blogging, but they were either famous already, had talent or had a specific niche.

Early on, most of my readers were young people, especially young moms.  These young people seemed to find many of my posts to be humorous and their comments reflected that.

Many of my posts take a simple situation in my life and for the sake of humor (hopefully) exaggerate a bit or maybe even change a fact or two.

As the years have gone by, somehow my readers have aged a bit.  They have gone from young moms to Old People.  Now don’t get your drawers in a bunch, I am an Old People myself, I love Old People we just have a different perspective on life.

Where as younger readers found humor in my blog posts, Old People want to problem solve.

Instead of,

“That was funny, made me spit out my morning coffee!”

I now get,

“I would never put up with that, what you should do is…”

I used to get

“Oh my, ROFLMAO!”

Today it is more often

“That is terrible, what I always do is…”

Earlier comments,

“That was a great story, I had to read it to my coworkers.”

Often today,

“I think you meant ‘aisle’ not ‘isle’ and you do know that ‘you are’ is contracted as ‘you’re’, and not 'your' don’t you?”

Once upon a time a comment might read

“Oh, I so agree, squirrels are fun to watch.”

Now

“Speaking of squirrels, that ______ (chose a politician) is a big stupid hater, and anyone who disagrees with me is an ass!”

When do people lose their sense of humor and become problem solvers, content editors and political analysts? 

Don’t get me wrong, I love any comments, but I am not really looking for problems to be solved, my grammar and spelling to be corrected or unsolicited political opinions. I guess Old People just can’t help themselves.

What you should do when commenting on a post is…wait, am I doing it now?

See, I am an Old People too.