Of Funerals, Fireplaces and Fuckers

Been a busy week here at Castille du Blaque.

A funeral but no weddings, sushi twice, the ever present feeling that I’m being poisoned by the fireplace and of course Lizzie Borden (the poker-playing-cheating Persian) horking up the annual winter hairballs at a record pace.

Built a fire this morning at 9:30 (in the fireplace, not the cross on my ex-husband’s lawn. This time.) and it’s up to a sweltering 61F at 5:13 pm.

Damn this castle is old, drafty and cold. The servant’s day off too.  It snowed as well.

Okay it’s a 1921 duplex but it’s my castle. And I’m the only servant…ummm it quit snowing by 10:30 am. in reality.
Still. THE HORROR.

Funeral was for my boyfriend’s mom. Sad, but she’s been very sick for several years.
On the good side my boyfriend took it well. Also fabulous: No fire extinguishers were harmed when yours truly set foot in the church.

Mentioned before that Juanita was a wonderful sweet woman and I’m sure she knew it was time. Am also glad because her husband was abusive to her. At Christmas I saw that bastard pour an entire ashtray full of old butts and trash into her lap. At the time she could not walk by herself, was virtually immobile, and could barely talk.

Offered to help her up and clean off her nightgown. She looked serene and told me it was alright.
Sorry ~P (my boyfriend) but your dad is a world class cocksucking bastard.

Moving along.

Nothing to report besides that Dr. Atkins was blown off for almost a week. And I’ve blown up.  Back on the Taste-less Diet of the Damned today.

May your evening be pleasant, your family healthy, your food tasty and your hairballs land on the linoleum and not the carpet.

~Miss R