Let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Paula. I am 52 years old. I have been married for thirty-four years. I have three grown children. My daughter is 30. My oldest son is 26 and the baby, (he hates that I still call him that), is 19. I don’t have any grandchildren yet but I have four granddogs. Two we have adopted to go along with the two dogs we already have. I also have one cat. He is my cat . In his more youthful years he would follow me where-ever I would go. I would go to the bathroom, he would be sitting outside. That is unless he could get the door open. I would go to the neighbors and he would be sitting on the porch waiting for me. Ok so he was a stalker. I called him my boyfriend-cat. He was purrfect. He never argued or talked back. He was a great cuddler and never ask for anything more. He is getting on in years so he would rather be left alone.
My husband has not been able to work for several years so I have been working two jobs. My typical day would be to get up at dark-thirty, shower, go work, get off work, go to my next job, go home, go to my room, dinner is optional. My hobbies include correcting others grammar, watching endless hours of television, reading until I fall asleep and the book hits me in the face, annoying my children (they say I ask too many questions) and wasting hours of my day on my tablet.
This morning when I was leaving my house, I missed the last step and fell down. Now normally when I fall down (yes this has happened before) I jump up and look around to make sure no one saw me. My husband, we will call him Cliff, (because that’s his name), walks me out every morning. He asked if I was ok. My response was, “Quick help me up. I’m going to be late for work.” As I’m limping to my car I realize I fell right where the dogs use the bathroom. I quickly my clothes and sniff them. I’m good to go. Amazingly, I did not wet my pants. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about.
One of my jobs is at a day care. I love my job. Everyday day is something new and different. I love the humor of children. They may not even be trying to be funny. One morning a six year old said to me, “Miss Paula, you are smarter than you look.” It’s hard to keep a straight face when they are so serious. Last week a seven year old was absent one day. When I asked him where he was he said he was sick. I asked if he was vomiting, he said no. So I asked if he had diarrhea. (Remember my kids said I ask too many questions.) He said, “Miss Paula, I’m too young to have diarrhea. Oh….no that’s puberty”.
That is it for this week. Have a blessed week and be safe.