Tell me . . was Baxter EVER Housetrained & You're Invited to a Pity Party!

For those of you who read my blog, you may read it today and wonder as to it's purpose and functionality in relation to the Webbman.  In answer to that question right out front, there probably is none.  The only thing I can come up with is that at some point, it is my hope to have my blog printed for the Lil man to have to read in the bathroom when he gets bored as the years pass.  I figure he needs to know that his Bitsy was not a "stay at home Grandmom" by choice!  He needs to know that his Bitsy struggled, just like the next person and worried about "what would become of her"?  No, we can eat.  We can even go out to eat.  We have a lovely home and nice cars.  It's not about "stuff"  We all have too much stuff!  I can take a train to see the Lil Momma and crew, but I need a purpose.  I need a job.  I need a mission should someone choose to give me one!  So Webbman, whenever you read this, if you read this . . . . you will already know how this story turns out, and I sure hope it has a happy ending.  I hope it finds your Bitsy gainfully employed and working til she can't do it anymore, but right now, at this moment . . . . well things aren't so much fun.

I'm giving you fair warning - Stop Now If You Don't Want To Attend!

I have to tell ya'll, this whole "no job" thing is way past the point of getting on Bitsy's nerves.  Quite frankly, it sucks. I keep thinking that surely somebody has something I can do.  Somebody has some kind of place for me to get up and go in the morning.  The whole thing is kind of crazy and pretty frustrating.  It's not like I'm not trying.  I am - every day.  I spend from 10 a.m. to noon searching and searching the never ending series of internet postings.  I check out the new postings on the State Department of Labor site, I go to every known job site known to man, and apply.  What happens after that? Your guess is as good as mine people.  I've even volunteered, but I WANT a job.  I want somewhere to go where I tell the same people hello every morning and hear about what T.V. show they watched last night, about the awful piece of meatloaf their spouse made and the nasty sauce she put on top of it to disguise it.  I want to hang the phone up with a customer and shake my head and wonder what planet that customer came from knowing full well whatever planet it was, I did my best to help her!   I want to know somebody needs this woman's skills (whatever they may be).

It's not like this Bitsy doesn't have skills, albiet one of them being eating too much.  A job would remedy that too because who has time to eat when they are busy.  Who has time to bake when they are working?  Who has time to bake and eat when they are working (well I did, but maybe I'm too old and too fat now to do it?)  Granted I am 54 years old and not alot of people are busting the door down for the middle aged "Bitsy category", but I have a degree (even if it is from the University of Southwestern Louisiana where we did have MORE than our share of fun).  I have great experience, pretty good social skills and well I reckon my share of a colored past, but if somebody WANTS to WORK, shouldn't they be able to? 

Being a stay at home wife and Mom may be one thing.  You have a mission.  You have a cause that keeps you busy so when you have time to come up for air, you can look back on your day and know you were productive.  There is no mission in this household . . . . . unless it is to figure out what we are going to have for supper :)  It does not make for "riveting" conversation when Mr. B gets home.  I do not have much to offer in the line of "news"! 

Sure, there's a certain amount of levity provided in checking out the news in the morning.  I get a good giggle out of the Democrats and the Republicans blaming one another for everything from the invasion of Normandy to the sightings of aliens in Hawaii (oops, I'm sorry, that was Donald Trump, not an alien).

Then, there are the dishes.  It's very important to load them just right into the dishwasher.  All the glasses on the top shelf, cups to the left, saucers to the right, you get the idea.  Oh my goodness, how could I forget to tell you about the dogs and taking them outside to do their business.  Wait, should I say take Buddy out to do his business and Baxter wanders around smelling trees and bushes all the while plotting which piece of hardwood flooring he is going to pee on when he gets back INSIDE?

Sidenote:  Baxter was Granny's dog (my ex-husband's Mom and beloved "Granny" to the Lil Momma). He was the ex-wife's inheritance when she passed away, which, BTW, none of us have or will ever recover from.  Heck, I can't even bring myself to delete her phone # from my contact list on my cell phone! All I know is I did not housetrain him and in hindsight, I'm not sure she did either, but we love him very much, just like we did Granny!

The Little Inherited Terrorist and Pee Machine, Baxter

Then, of course, it takes awhile to clean up after Baxter and that regenerates some more stuff to WASH!  I guess I should set the record straight.  You can't eat off our floors here in Atlanta.  We should be able to, but I have tired of housework.  It's not much fun to do it when you don't have little ones or even big ones running in and out to see the fruits of your labor. The house is neat and fairly clean, but just because I'm home doesn't mean I have resorted to my "Clean Carleen" mode of previous years!

Sure, there's the Library and the Kroger, but for now, say some prayers that Bitsy finds that job.  She really wants one, and don't hesitate to pass along some pearls of wisdom.  She's a very good listener.  I know I don't have to say this, but I will.  Despite my current dilemma~which quite certainly has drug on far too long~I remain forever grateful for the many blessings God shares with me every day . . . . . . (to name just a few, the hubby, the Lil Momma, Webbman, Precious, the Moran contingent, the Murphy contingent and the friends who have always stuck by my side), but I'm going to be greedy and yes, I'll ask for one more . . . . . a JOB.

I'll be back tomorrow and hopefully, I'll be in better spirits.  I know you guys will pardon me for hostessing this pity party today.  Somebody had to do it.  I do hope some of you had a good time.  I hate having parties and nobody having fun!  Next time I'll bake cupcakes.