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Wed, Jan 28, 2026

2:56am EST

Members: 552

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Ya Know What I Was Thinking?

by Jeffrey Meyer

Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #2348994

If you DO want to know, welcome to my blog

For those who actually want to follow my thoughts, ideas, moans, and gripes, this is the place for you! For those of you who are returning...I questions your judgment, you poor souls.

Show Recent Comments

10 Most Recent Blog Comments:

Jeff

about 6 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Sometimes just getting your thoughts down in writing is a success in and of itself!

Amethyst Snow Angel

about 11 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Ack, I don't know whether to

Goals...

Wait, you're a Pisces too

Good luck out there in the real world!

Brandiwyn🎶 v.2026

about 11 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Goals aren't for everyone. I do like your "what I don't want" list, but even that may be unnecessary. You may not need goals at all, if you're naturally good at prioritizing without planning. Do you get the things done that are required for you to avoid the things on your "don't want" list? That's what matters.

1 Like

Brandiwyn🎶 v.2026

Jan 25, 2026 at 8:32am
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

"And another blanket to curl up in when my dogs usurp the first the one." 😂😂😂 I feel this in my soul. I take it you have burrowers too? Meet Thomas:

What do you consider southern Midwestern states? Ohio, here. Our plows/salt trucks are pretty thorough and prompt, but we don't carry chains as a rule (or law) and occasionally berms left by the plow at the end of a driveway couldn't be driven over by a quad. So that's fun if you drive a compact sedan. I don't, luckily, since I occasionally require space to transport drum sets and electric pianos, my housemate drives a hatchback.

Roads here look like they've seen a pass or two by the plows so far overnight or this morning, but it's still falling. Posting photos shortly.

Hoping you still have power. We do, so far.

Ichabod Crane

Jan 24, 2026 at 3:54pm
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

If you have a cellphone and can still hit towers that are working, you can tether your laptop/computer to it. No cable needed.

1 Like

Jack of Diamonds

Jan 24, 2026 at 2:27pm
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

Fill your bathtub, then use a plastic bucket to scoop out water to fill the toilet tank. You can get between 20 and 50 extra no-water flushes like that depending on the size of your bathtub and the quality of your stopper... J

1 Like

I Resolve to Wear My Sox

Jan 16, 2026 at 5:51pm
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

Currently raising a kitten nicknamed Cannibal. On of my dogs indicated she needs exercise. I told him to chase her. He simply replied, "No, exorsize like in this conjuring..." He really isn't suicidal enough to chase her. Her real name is Mittens but I have come to believe that they aren't mittens, they are gloves so she doesn't leave behind pawprints.

Dave Ryan

Jan 16, 2026 at 10:05am
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

I remember the cats when I was a kid. They had lots of games they liked to play. Here are three of their favourites.

Bed wars: A summer sport, played during summer when I didn't have to get up early for school. A subtle battle for territory, where the cat would start at the foot of the bed and slowly encroach upwards, claiming new territory every time I moved while always maintaining the death-stare.

Chair race: Turn up at the window looking to be let in, forcing you to give up your chair. Once in, it is then a straight sprint to claim the now vacant seat.

Paper chase: A variation of your newspaper observation. If the paper is on the floor, they park themselves on it. The game is to manoeuvre them off the paper without them tearing the damn thing to shreds in the process.

Amethyst Snow Angel

Jan 16, 2026 at 9:58am
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

Hey, at least you can practice your "french..."

Jack of Diamonds

Jan 14, 2026 at 1:10pm
In response to "Break Time!"

That's epic! Sounds most remarkably like life around my crib. And I'm retired, so here's what you have to look forward to... J

December 31, 2025 at 4:12pm

#1104807

What's Cookin'?

Fire extinguishers are heavy, y'know?

Just kidding. I mean, they are heavy, but I rarely actually need it. Rarely. See, I'm one of those guys that can burn water—and I really don't care, because I hate cooking. I hate cooking like I hate doing fractions. Funny story about fractions: I can put an x and y together to get the computer to make coffee, just about; My 4th grader asked me to explain fractures and I looked like a monkey humping a football. I contemplated just burning the textbook, but I figured I should save the fire extinguisher; it was spaghetti night that night.

So yeah, my love affair with cooking. That would entail pulling hair and vicious spankings, if there was one. We'll call it my relationship—another term that hides all manner of abusive sins. Cooking and the holidays. Go hand in hand, right? Sure they do! My wife makes pies, delicious potato soup, these little cookie cups you put no-bake cream cheese filling in. I make anger rollups dipped in hatred sauce. That's not fair, I can make a mean mac-n-cheese with fried wieners. Bur who's eating picnics on New Years Eve?

I just don't understand the rhythm of it I guess. I don't understand any rhythm, actually. I dance like an epileptic and sing like a wounded cat. Even my metronome can't keep a beat. So how am I supposed to mix, stuff, place in oven, mix, put on stove, take out of oven, let cool, warm up, mix some more, remind self where fire extinguisher is, mix, throw up hands in air, open the oven-cum-incinerator, curse, curse some more... AUGH! I have stress just thinking about it.

Why am I writing about all this? Because I'm hungry, and my wife doesn't feel good. The leftovers are gone from Christmas. Even the cold mac-n-cheese is gone. (Hey, don't judge; I can eat a mess of cold mac-n-cheese! It's gourmet for me.) I'm reduced to prowling the kitchen and looking for something edible—pizza rolls or something, maybe a jelly sandwich. Food is on my mind, but so is how flammable the curtains are. So I'm complaining, and gnawing on the bones of my own irritation.

But I am hungry, so I reckon I ought to wrap these ramblings up. Quickly, too, because the grilled cheese I started a paragraph ago has now become a road flare. Gotta run; misplaced the fire extinguisher again!

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