Machinations

On far more boring matters, can anyone tell me why the email alerts I receive from Blogger decided over the weekend to come in plain text rather than html and how I can get it back?
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Other things that are absolutely shitting me:
Is there a toy, just one particular toy, one of your children owns that no matter how many times you put it away it appears everywhere at anytime? So every time you vacuum there it is. AGAIN. Beckoning, nay taunting you to pick it up and put it away. Laughing in your face. Mwahahahaha you may throw me into that box, store me on that shelf, tuck me under several other toys in a big plastic tub but I.will.find.you. I will be there for you to slip/trip/tread on in the middle of the night/as you run for the phone/try to do something quickly. Never fear. I will always be by your side.
Ours is this weird pink frisbee thing that has an elastic on it. So if you don’t tread on the lip making it feel like a nail has been driven through the bottom of your foot to the core of your soul the elastic gets you and swings it around so the hard plastic flies into your ankle bone. It’s going in the bin. Tonight.
I tried to find a photo of it online.
What I found was disturbing.
Apparently frisbee throwing is quite the sport.
Who knew there was a difference between ULTIMATE frisbee, frisbee golf (more leisurely? for the corporates? suitable to grey nomads? for those with anger management issues?) and clearly for the renegade, frisbee freestyle.
Disturbing.
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Owning a small fridge and having no storage.
Don’t make me have to detail how I have to force fruit and vege into our too small fridge or shove washing into already stuffed Ikea hanging shelves.
Just.don’t.
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In one of the shit shelves is a drawer in which I try and shove store all the off season school wear. We inherited some long school pants but they’re too big for the boys yet so they’re in that drawer/shelf/thing that’s not big enough to justify just how successful it is at killing.my.spirit.
Not ONE day goes by at least once a week a pair of those too big pants makes an appearance during the getting ready for school mayhem hell process. Despite me telling everyone many times they are too big and not to be worn.

And I know you all know that whoever got them out does not put them back. EVAH.
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Our dishwasher is hopeless. Worse than the worst dish pig at the most shitty restaurant in town. There are times it can’t even be bothered to dissolve the detergent tablet. As if it’s just such an effort to swing those arms around and pretend to care.
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In one particular episode of Thomas the Effing Engine, Ringo Starr says ‘says’ as ‘sayz’ rather that ‘sez’. If you want me to instantly ridicule you, classify you as a village idiot and sever all ties with you, just say sayz rather than sez when using the word says and it’s on baby. O.N.
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Why, WHY are mobile phone chargers such a shape that at a double outlet you can’t use the other outlet if using your phone charger.
Do NOT get me started on the battery charging unit.
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But if someone can help with my Blogger email issue, I’d greatly appreciate it.
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Today, when I was spending an effing fortune doing the fruit and vege shop I noticed some limes on the cheap rack as I was leaving. So I unloaded the boxes and bags and went back to get my limes. I’m waiting behind this lady getting a box of tangelos (I love the tangelo, but a box!?!) and I’m standing a little way back because you know, I don’t like to crowd. So this old fuckwit idiot man and his clearly worn down by the sheer hell of it wife just cut in front of me. And despite how I might carry on here I do not confront in real life. But I confronted. I wished him a sad lonely death in my head because even I know that is a line not to be crossed at the shop of the most luscious and fresh fruit and vege on the peninsula.
Respect. I have it. In all the right places.

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