I've Been Neglectful

I know, I know. My usually funny posts about something in my life have really slipped of late. Ever since I went on vacation, I haven't been able to get back into the swing of things.

I think what's happened is that I've been home too long. What I need is a new job and something to do eight hours a day. This sitting here at the keyboard and periodically clicking on every favorite link is getting old.

I know, I know. I could be writing. But there's no incentive. No pressure. No reason to get on with it. I'm really slipping.

I don't get out enough. My local mall is not that thrilling. There's usually three or four businesses going OUT of business and something new is always coming in, but
there's only so many times you can drool at the goodies in Victoria's Secret before you start looking like the town mental case. In fact, things are so bad that I forgot to use my $10 off birthday certificate from them. It just rattles me.

I've even stopped cleaning. And since my little Electrolux vacuum decided to die, I haven't felt so bad about doing nothing. I asked my husband to take it to the vacuum fixing guy and he lamented that he'd been there two times in the last month and the guy was going to start charging him more. He actually wanted me to take it to someone here, locally. I gasped and put my hand to my neck! He wanted me to do something? Go out and talk to the public? My God, the man has gone over the deep end.

I do have a lunch date with a friend tomorrow, at another mall. This one is much more entertaining. I could kill a day there.

Or I could go back to the casino. Last time I went, my husband warned me not to bet too high on those penny machines. Wouldn't want to let forty-five cents go down the drain at one time, no, not me. I was so traumatized by his warning that I bet one cent on the machines and it took me (gasp) six hours to lose $40. Actually, it was the longest losing streak I've ever had.

And that's another thing. When I came back from the casino, my husband tells me that maybe there is a message in the fact that I haven't won a dime at the casino in months. He gave me that tilted head look, the "honey, you're wasting good money" stare, but he said nothing else. I looked back at him. "Yes, there is a message here, I am sure of it. I need more practice!" And I planned my next deposit at the Tulalip Casino.

Don't you love Indian casinos? I do. There's nothing like the rush of five gazillion burning cigarettes to get your throat burning. And the thrill of winning, that one really gets me. There's a certain excitement as you watch a guy sit down at the machine you just lost on, put in a 9 cent bet, and win $85.00. Yep, it's exhilarating, especially since I'd been praying all day, "Give me a winner, Lord. Come on, let me win some money." So, finally He gives me a good machine and I move off it before it starts paying off.

I think that's what my husband meant about the message. That maybe somehow God was looking down and telling me to get my ass out of that casino. Well, if I do that, what am I going to do with all my time? Tell me, huh? Just what am I going to do?