The Smell of Shit

Tonight we have been inundated with the smell of shit.  I have smelled four different species of shit today.

Snake shit.

Cat shit.

Rat shit (EEWWWW)

and human shit.

You know what?

All shit smells bad.

Some shit smells worse than others.

Some have some extra spicy ingredient to make them truly horrifying.

Some have been around for a bit so the smell has dimmed but you know what?  Even old shit still smells bad, just less so.

Shit is shit.  That is the lesson of the day.

Followed quickly by the second lesson:  the sooner you clean it up, the less the smell will linger.

This pile of shit has been brought to you by:

The Abysmal Witch.

May your shits be easy, regular and smell no worse than any other shit.


Next Life Crisis

You heard the term here first!  LOL

Screw the mid-life crisis and the quarter-life crisis, let’s just call them our next life crises.

What do I mean?  Well, it’s just what it sounds like, I’m trying to decide what to be next.  We go through many transitions in our lifetime, the obvious ones of entering the workforce, the quarter & mid-life crises of whether we’re doing the best thing for us, retirement.  Let’s not forget puberty, major relationships, etc.

I think we have more of them than we used to, or than our parents had.  It was one mid-life crisis.  Now it’s a regular change-over event, a re-inventing of self from one set of circumstances to the next.

I evolve spiritually, the rest of my world attempts to evolve.  Because the more I change on the inside, the bigger the discrepancy between who I truly am and what I do.  And the greater that divide, the more intense my cognitive dissonance.

Hehehe, fun to use that phrase.  Perhaps it’s spiritual dissonance.  Or just personal dissonance.

So I’ve been trying to figure out what career to move myself over to, in order to reduce this dissonance.  And then figure out how would I do it?  How do I switch practical paths?  The mundane world isn’t as easy to shift zones in as the spiritual one.  I can’t just make a decision and do/study/practice something else.  There’s this thing called a job, and it pays me (rather well, actually), and that puts a roof over my head, pays for food, clothes, pets.  Things that can’t just be tossed aside because I feel like doing something different.

So I’m working on it.  Planning and figuring out where I’m going to go and how I’m going to get there.

My Next Life crisis.

You know the best part of the phrase?  It’s completely open-ended on how many times you can go through one in a single lifetime.  Yippee?  lol.

Happy changing!


Accept the Spoons and Move On

Tonight I was forced to question my grasp on reality.

My sanity was suddenly all it was cracked up to be.

I was putting away the dishes and found a wooden spoon in the cutlery section.

This doesn’t seem particularly odd.


I only own two wooden spoons.  And what I held in my hands wasn’t one of them.

“Love,” calls I.  “Did you use a wooden spoon?”

“Yes,” says my love.

“Where did you get the spoon?” asks I.

“From the cutlery drawer,” he says, “right beside the other ones.”


I looked in the drawer.

Yes, two more spoons squatted insight.

Understand that I exaggerate not at all when I say that I had never seen them before in my life.

“Love, did you buy new spoons?”

Hope fizzled predictably with his “Nah, those have been there since I moved in.”

No fucking way.

There was a disagreement for the next several minutes.

My two indefutable  points:

  1. why were we in Ikea looking for more wooden spoons if there were 4 already in the drawer (and not just the one we actually had)?
  2. we’d cleaned out the drawer together a couple of months ago and there were no such spoons in it then.

So we came to the agreement that the spoons had appeared somewhere along the way and that neither of us knew where from.

Meanwhile, I’d contacted potential suspects–friends, who could have somehow left wooden spoons in the drawer.  No go.  Thankfully they understand this whole process and don’t consider this my final push over the edge.

But, no, they weren’t the source of the spoons.

There is no known source for them.

It haunted me.

And then my covenmate reminded me that weirdness is just part of our lives.

The lesson of the day became clear:  sometimes you just need to accept the spoons and move on.