Living With Eeyore- No Dumping Here


My Father has collected these signs over the years, and they now hang in my childhood home’s garage. The one on the left side of the wall says, “Town Landfill Entrance On The Right.” The one on the right side of the garage says, “Town Landfill Entrance On The Left”. Then in the middle of the garage there hangs a sign that says “No Dumping Here.”

I chuckle each time I see them. Don’t ask me how he got them. But if you looked at the garage you’d laugh just because it looks kind of like a dump all over despite what the sign says. Too much junk, no room for any cars. It is sad.

I got up this morning, a bit fuzzy headed. Seems I caught a head cold from a bunch of kids coughing on me and wiping snot on me last week. Why does it always seem like Sunday, my day off, when I get sick. Convenient, but I want a good day off, not be sick.

I sat on the couch, resting. I could hear my husband’s truck rumbling in the driveway. I know he was getting up early today to go buy another wood boiler. Our other one got cracked when we had the “almost fire melt down”, a week ago. It has been so cold and we don’t like using oil to heat our house. So he is off to find another one. Hopefully a safer one this time.

He comes stomping into the house and dumps a load of verbal junk on me. “I am having the worst day!” He declares and continues to tell me everything that is going wrong for him. Then he says, “Where is the money?” I tell him and he says, “I gotta go.” He walks away leaving me holding on to the pile of junk that weighs me down now.

Is there a sign on me that says, “Dump Here”?

The door is shut. He is gone. But his presence is still heavy in the house. How do I get rid of the gloom that just got given to me. Let alone, there was no goodbye, how are you this morning, or I love you, or even a kiss goodbye. Just a slam of a door.

I am going to go steam myself and try to welcome positive thoughts to fill my day.

Then maybe I will write “No Dumping Here” on my forehead to make sure that everyone knows.

Thanks for listening.



Living With Eeyore


My husband is Eeyore in every way. He complains for everything. This past snow storm was no exception. First, was the eye popping, veins to the top of the skin reaction to “What if we lose power? How are we going to shovel the drive? How are we going to keep warm? What about the pipes? Two to three feet snow, this is ridiculous. We’ll get three with our luck.” I was exhausted even before the storm hit.

Then we slept and woke up to beauty. My husband stomped around irritated. My poor dog always shakes when he stomps around in his boots. I calmly got breakfast and then slipped into my snow gear. Outside was magical. I started shoveling. He came out and cursed at the snowblower. It started and he began to clear the driveway, then the yard. He either doesn’t like snow, or he loves using his snowblower. Our front yard is cleared of snow now.

Charlie comes over to me to complain that I am making more work for him, the way that I am shoveling. I dusted myself off and went inside. Ah warmth. I made lunch.

He comes inside mad that I am mad at him. “I’m not mad at you.” I say. He stomps away.

“There is no food in this house.” He complains. I have stopped trying to make food for him. Over the years his complaining of what I make has stopped me. Now he just complains that there is no food. I don’t make lunches for him either. I used to and he would take them to work and not eat them. Then he would leave them in their containers for weeks to rot. I would have to go buy new containers they were so bad. I’d make lunches and he’d go out to eat, so I’ve stopped. Now he complains that he is hungry for lunch. And starved when he gets home…which leads to the, “there is nothing to eat.”

His complaints are draining and don’t get me started on his long SIGHS. That is another post.

Thanks for listening!