Garbage Day

I don't know what's more irritating; waking up to a terrible rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You", the garbage truck, or my husband yelling at the dog because she ate someone's breakfast off of the table (but come on, no one was eating those burnt sausage patties anyway). And seriously, who could be mad at this face? 

The weather's getting warmer. People are already complaining about the heat. Considering what a b**ch of a winter we had, I'll take anything and sing my gratitude. But working in retail, like I do, you hear so many people complain. And the weather is the first strike. I guess it's considered small talk. Isn't that strange? You figure you need to be nice while buying canned corn and ice cream sandwiches, so your first thought is to bellyache about the mild humidity, even though 6 weeks ago your fingers were blue from frost and you couldn't walk into a store without your nose dripping like you were allergic to life. People are strange. And I'm no exception. Give me a a couple of days, I'll step off my soap box, but complain as soon as my feet touch asphalt because it's haaawwwwwttt. 

I'm also learning, in my old age, how important it is to take off eye makeup before going to bed. I know, it's important at any age, it's bad for the skin to leave it on all night, yada yada but seriously, everyone does it at some point. But it's not the health effects I worry about. It's the nasty black eye boogers in the morning that gross me out. And now I've grossed you out with talk of my eye goop. Sorry.

Eye goop. That is all.