Part Two
The documentary continues.
After work I finally took a shower, and decided to grab a little joi de vie (Suse, French spell check please). My choice of wardrobe would surely land me in snarkywood, were I a celebrity. Fashion faux pas for certain. But oh, so comfy, and I'm going for a walk. Yes, a walk. It's a good thing I am not a celebrity. I'd be lambasted for my attire for sure. I have until 5 o'clock, which is the latest I can allow myself before I have to leave to pick up my little one.
The street by my house is lined with rocks. When I had dogs, my boy Jet would pee on every rock. He was a champion that way. Oh how I miss my Jet. I was so inspired to be outside, in the fresh air, that I decided to try jogging. Jogging! Alas, it was very short lived. I made it to the end of the street. The double-dees and tree stumps to which my feet are attached bring the fantasy vision of the long legged Masai running effortlessly for miles upon miles through the desert to an abrupt screeching halt of a reality check. It takes me another block to recover from the coughing fit that this moment of idiocy induced. I was so caught up in le joi de vie (Suse, need your help again) that I forgot I was sick.
I noticed that the street-side landscaping behind the fences of the houses one block over is much nicer than what lies behind my fence. Their neighborhood is probably ten years older, and perhaps the developer landscaped? Or the city or county had different rules back then? The city or county maintains the land behind my fence. I wonder if they maintain the land behind the neighboring block's fence?
The sign, sadly appropriate, is stationed directly behind my house. It is an outrage. An outrage! I wonder if that land is even mine, or if it is easement or city property. Things I should pay attention to when buying houses. That and their proximity to busy (noisy) streets. I arrive home with ten minutes to spare before I must dash off to collect my bundle of joy.
After work I finally took a shower, and decided to grab a little joi de vie (Suse, French spell check please). My choice of wardrobe would surely land me in snarkywood, were I a celebrity. Fashion faux pas for certain. But oh, so comfy, and I'm going for a walk. Yes, a walk. It's a good thing I am not a celebrity. I'd be lambasted for my attire for sure. I have until 5 o'clock, which is the latest I can allow myself before I have to leave to pick up my little one.
The street by my house is lined with rocks. When I had dogs, my boy Jet would pee on every rock. He was a champion that way. Oh how I miss my Jet. I was so inspired to be outside, in the fresh air, that I decided to try jogging. Jogging! Alas, it was very short lived. I made it to the end of the street. The double-dees and tree stumps to which my feet are attached bring the fantasy vision of the long legged Masai running effortlessly for miles upon miles through the desert to an abrupt screeching halt of a reality check. It takes me another block to recover from the coughing fit that this moment of idiocy induced. I was so caught up in le joi de vie (Suse, need your help again) that I forgot I was sick.
I noticed that the street-side landscaping behind the fences of the houses one block over is much nicer than what lies behind my fence. Their neighborhood is probably ten years older, and perhaps the developer landscaped? Or the city or county had different rules back then? The city or county maintains the land behind my fence. I wonder if they maintain the land behind the neighboring block's fence?
The sign, sadly appropriate, is stationed directly behind my house. It is an outrage. An outrage! I wonder if that land is even mine, or if it is easement or city property. Things I should pay attention to when buying houses. That and their proximity to busy (noisy) streets. I arrive home with ten minutes to spare before I must dash off to collect my bundle of joy.
posted by sueeeus at 10/11/2005 06:46:00 PM
3 Comments:
I have the same fence/property issue.
The land on the other side of the fence is not TECHNICALLY mine. Unless it needs some kind of maintenance.
Which so sucks.
Bravo on your walk.
Watch out for that jogging tho, that crap'll kill ya.
Joie. Feminine.
Which is nice, isn't it?
I've learned my lesson. NO MORE JOGGING!
Joie. That IS nice. I only took one semester of French. I wanted more, but it didn't fit the get-out-of-school-in-4-years-and-get-a-job-asap plan which I followed rigorously. Professor Rose. Le Petit Professeur, we affectionately called him. He was nearly 5 ft tall.
Now I can take any education I'd like (it doesn't even have to be job related), and my company will reimburse it 100% as long as the grades are above a C, I think, but I just can't muster the energy. It's a crying shame. I should be taking advantage of it. I should I should I should. But I don't.
(I did do two rounds of Dale Carnegie while pregnant, but the time commitment for continuing education is more than I can handle now that I have a wee one. He trumps.)
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