Somewhere In The Middle

Half of the time, I can’t remember the things I dream.  It seems like when I do remember them I’d wish I didn’t.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Maybe I watch too many horror movies or maybe I am just a disturbed person.  My dreams have been imbedded into my head.  What’s worse is they are happening in the state of sleep paralysis (half asleep/half awake) which can be outright terrifying.  

Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted around two in the afternoon.  I decided to lie down and take a nap before the kids came home from school.  I’m sure it was the snow that had crept into Oklahoma recently that made me feel so sleepy.  I curled up into the bed and nuzzled under the covers.  I dreamed I was taking a nap and woke up.  In my bedroom, there was an attic door on the ceiling that had been pulled down with the door extended.  In reality, there is only access to the attic up the stairs and it is a walk in attic.

In the dream, I was only slightly alarmed by the open attic.  I climbed out of bed and in my living room there was another attic on the ceiling with the ladder extended.  In the dining room, it was the same thing only the ladder had been broken into pieces on the floor.  The hallway closet was open.  It was the open closet that made my heart start to race.

I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911.  The operator was an idiot who I repeatedly gave my address to over and over again.  It was as if I was on a three-way call with the 911 operator and the police department.  I pleaded for them to send someone to my house and stated that someone is in here with me.

As I am pleading for them to help me, everything in my house turns on almost as if the electricity had been out.  The fans are spinning at their highest speeds.  The televisions and radios are all blaring loudly.  All of the lights came on at the same time.  At this point I look down the hallway and I noticed my son’s door begin to open and a shadow creeps out into the hallway.  I take off back towards my bedroom and into my closet where the safe room is located.  I make it into the room and slam the door behind me.  I manage to lock it as whoever it is stands on the other side trying to turn the knob.  I can see a shadow underneath the door.

Then I wake up, fully alert.  My heart is pounding in my chest.  I look at the clock and only about a half an hour has passed since I first laid in the bed.  Yeah, nap time was over.

Later that night after I sent the kids to bed, I climbed into my bed around 10:30pm.  I dreamed I woke up again and the bathroom door and closet doors were open.  Immediately, I felt startled.  I never sleep with doors open.  I heard whispering all around me and one by one I started to see these cloud-like, smoky images in front of me.  They appeared to have facial features and it looked as though they were whispering.  I tried to climb out of the bed but I was tangled in the covers.  I knew I was dreaming and was trying to get myself to wake up.  The whispers felt as if they were getting louder and louder.

I woke with a jolt and all at once there was silence.  I glanced over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed yet again.

Am I saying my house is haunted?  Not at all.  I do think something is weighing on my subconscious though.  Maybe I am being haunted by something like my own failure.  Who really knows though, right?  Maybe I just watch to many horror movies…

It's Scary In There

Last night, I had another weird experience. Part of me wants to blame my lack of sleep and, of course, my vivid imagination for the unusual dream. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog you know these sort of things are nothing to which I am a stranger. See here and here.


I had dozed off around 2-ish and woke up to a light tapping at my bedroom door and no it wasn't the Raven. This isn’t an unusual occurrence as I have two children that from time to time come to my room during the night because they have had a bad dream or what not. I have my kids trained to not walk into my room…to always knock first. This is just a precaution. I’d hate for my kids to see a nip slip or something. Who knows what happens when you rigamaroo (wiggle around) in your sleep?

“What do you want?” I said. No answer. I sat up and looked at the faint light streaming under the door. Normally there is a shadow there if one of the kids is standing on the other side. There was nothing. I'm not sure exactly what would be scarier...a knock, no shadow, and no answer or a knock, a shadow, and no answer.  The verdict hasn't come back yet on that one.  A shadow would mean there's a chance of a demon clown. 

I managed to convinced myself that I dreamed the knock but just to be sure I got up to go check on the kids.

Now, I love to watch scary movies and the whole time I was walking to the bedroom it was like a scene from a movie…slow motion of a hand reaching to turn a doorknob.

Enter Friday the 13th soundtrack here.



Even the walk across the house to their rooms was a bit surreal. When I peeked into their rooms, both of them were soundly sleeping. Even the dog was snoring, loudly I might add, curled up next to my daughter. So, I went back to my room and cozied back into the bed under the comforter. After a while, I fell back asleep.

In my “dream”, I was sleeping on my side when I felt a presence. I tried to roll over to see what was behind me. The presence seemed to put me almost in a half nelson. I fought with it to a point that I toppled off the bed and hit my head on my dresser. During the time I was wrestling with whatever it was, I must have sensed it was all a dream. I tried to convince myself to wake up, trying to will my eyes open.

When I finally managed to force myself awake it was around 4 in the morning, my heart was racing and my head ached. When I reached up to the spot throbbing on my cranium, I found a knot the size of a quarter. I had that fuzzy “I just woke up” feeling. Of course, in my experience that feeling is the same as the “I’ve been knocked unconscious” one.  I guess it's possible that I was thrashing my sleep and may have hit my head some way on the head board.

I tried to settle back down in my bed. Then I heard the familiar sound that always seems to accompany dreams such as these…the hoot of an owl. I looked out of my window to see if I could see the culprit. It took me a few moments to locate it in the darkness outside. I saw it as it in the tree as it turned its head around to face me. It seemed as if we made eye contact just before it spread its wings and flew away.

As I’ve stated a lot lately, sleep and I just aren’t getting along well right now. So just imagine my disappointment (also known as utter terror) when this event transpired and I was left on the verge of a panic attack in my bed trying to settle myself back down to sleep. My body and mind were just beginning to relax enough to drift back to Land of Nod when there was a knock at the bedroom door again. It startled me to a point that I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’s probably good that I had used the restroom just before climbing back into bed or I would have been changing the sheets.

This time when I called out, “What do you want?” My daughter answered back. She said she had a bad dream and wanted to sleep in my bed. How sad is it that I was relieved she wanted to sleep in the bed with me? I mean, good thing my seven year old is here to protect her scaredy cat mommy.

My Brain Is Slightly Undead

I’m not ashamed to admit that I have a vivid imagination. I always did and I’m sure I always will. As a child, I was the go-to person for all my friends if they wanted help bringing some outlandish make-believe game to life. Now days, rainy days are no match for my children when I’m around especially if there is a box large enough to climb inside. How I never got involved in role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons I’ll never know. Oh, wait, yes I do. It was “demonic” according to the church my mother forced me to attend with her and god forbid; I went against the grain of the other sheeple and did something creative.

Lately, I’ve been making posts here and there about the weirdness in my brain such as my invisible stalkers and my feathered spirit guide. Today, I invite you to take another trip inside my mind’s eye into what happens when someone is obsessed with zombies. Yes, zombies. When you spend many days on end reading books, watching movies (and television shows thanks to The Walking Dead series), and visiting websites about zombies, it comes as no surprise when my gray matter concocts visions about the undead.

A few nights ago I dreamed that my kids and I were in New Orleans at my husband’s grandparent’s home. As we sat hanging out in the living room, the grandparents came out of their bedroom. Even in the dream itself, I was caught off guard by seeing Maw-Maw. My subconscious mind had registered that she was dead. In reality, she has been since April of 2010. What made this odd (even for a dream) is she looked vibrant and youthful like I had seen her in photographs from the 70s and early 80s. The kids, of course, ran to give her a hug. They were excited to see her and probably couldn’t wait for the spoiling to begin all over again. I don’t blame them.

On the other hand even my dream-self had to know how she happened to be there. I asked what the hell was going on. She sort of looked at me like she was surprised I wasn’t already aware. Then she proceeded to tell me that a few days ago Paw-Paw picked her up from the cemetery and began feeding her. Paw-Paw stepped forward. He looked worn and tired. Then, he showed me his arm.

Most of his forearm was a grayish color, giving him a Gollum-esque flesh tone. To keep her alive, he had been allowing her to feed off of him. The feedings were not a form of vampirism as she didn’t puncture his skin to drain his blood. In a sense she was a type of zombie but instead of ingesting the flesh, she was absorbing his life force or aura. In the dream, this was accepted as a form of science, mad science, but science nonetheless.

Upon waking from this mental vision, I believe somehow Keanu Reeves possessed me for second or two because all I could do was sound a drawn out “Whoaaaaaaaa.” Then I questioned if I took the red pill or the blue pill before bed. I’m going to guess it was the blue one.

While Visions Of Owls Danced In My Head?

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I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me

Some people are believers.  Some people are not.  For once, I’m not referring to religion.  I am referring to the supernatural and the paranormal.  Always I have held a deep interest in the occult.  Something about the unseen and unknown gives me butterflies in my stomach.  It is a hunger that cannot be satisfied.

Today something unsettling happened that made me think maybe just maybe everything else is not a figment of my imagination.  I let my dog inside and told him to go lay down in his spot in the living room in front of the fireplace.  He seemed to be distracted by something off in my bedroom.  He lay down as he was told but in this almost Sphinx-like pose, head up straight, rigid posture.  His ears twitched a little but other than that he was very still.  He then began to growl very low as he continued to stare into the darkness of my bedroom.  You must know, for the most part, Deuce is a very silent dog.  Other than the snorting and slobbering sounds, he very seldom barks or howls much less growls.  So you can imagine my concern when he began to make his deep guttural complaints.

Moments later, I managed to build the nerve to walk in that direction.  He stood up but he did not come forward.  I stood in the doorway and called him over.  He refused to come.  He just stood there staring.  Outside, I could hear an owl hooting.  It sounded like it was in the tree outside my window.  (More about owls in a later post.)

That experience would have been weird all on its own but it got me thinking about other strange things that have happened, one thing in particular that happened early this morning.  Around 4ish this morning, I awoke fast and startled.  I had that feeling like someone was standing over me.  My heart was racing.  To say that I was shaken would be a total understatement.  I tried to rationalize things as I often do by telling myself that I must have been dreaming and since I woke up so quickly I wasn’t able to remember the dream.  I began to calm down.

Around thirty minutes passed and I began to settle back down.  Then there was a little knock at my bedroom door.  I was almost afraid to answer.  From my bed I called out, “Yes?”  To my relief I was answered by my seven year old daughter who said, “Mommy?  I’m scared.  Can I sleep in your bed?”

In hindsight, after the dog incident of course, I am wondering if any of these things mean anything at all or am I just making mountains out of mole hills.

When we first moved here to Oklahoma, on a few occasions I had that same feeling of being watched.  It happened very similar to how it took place this morning.  Only this particular time, it seemed as if I were in a half asleep/half-awake state.  I remember I felt paralyzed in my bed and unable to talk.  There were two male figures I saw with my peripheral vision.  Each figure stood on either side of the bed.  One appeared to by heavy set while the other appeared to be thin.  Both seemed tall.

On numerous occasions, I felt the fat man and the skinny man’s vacant stares.  One time I could swear that the skinny man actually punched me in my side and pinched my shoulder.  I woke up the next morning sore in those two spots.  Other times when I’ve seen them they were standing in front of my closet but always staring.   You know, I say “staring” but the truth of the matter is they are silhouettes so I can’t really make out facial features.

I’d like to say that these sorts of things are limited to Oklahoma but the truth is experiences like these happen every so often.  Most often they take place when I’m not sure if I am awake or asleep.  Of course, the logical person in me wants to brush it off as simply a case of having a vivid imagination.  However, the creative and imaginative side of me takes solace in the “what ifs” of life and embraces the unseen.

As I’ve said, I’m no stranger to weird happenings.  Luckily for me, being that I’m a scaredy cat and all, I do not “see dead people” like in the movie The Sixth Sense.  I’m not ashamed to admit I do not like the dark…at all.  There is something about not being able to see into the shadows that eats at me.  I can send myself into a panic attack just by thinking about what a shadow could be or what a noise may be.  The scary part is always “what if” I’m right.

So, yes, I can be a baby but as I said strange things have taken place…

In Texas a few years back, we were living in post housing.  I was lying in my bed reading.  I looked over the top of my book at the metal closet doors that were pretty common in the housing community that I lived in.  There were faces pressing against the metal as if they were on the inside trying to push their way out.  The best way to give you a visual is imagine places a plastic bag over a doorway so that it is pulled tight.  Then the person on the other side presses their face and hands against it almost like they are push through plastic.  That is what it looked like.  As I said, my closet doors were metal.

As if the faces in the closet weren’t freaky enough, on another occasion in the same house I woke up to people in my room around my bed.  They weren’t flesh and blood people.  They were completely transparent almost like a bubble but I could make out features on them.

At the time, I was seeing a therapist, who had put me on Ambien.  The next session I described the bubble people and the closet faces to my therapist.  I requested to be taken off of the Ambien.  Even if those things are there, I don’t think I want to see them although I think the Ambien caused mild hallucinations.

Think I’m weird yet?  Well, so do I sometimes.

Most times, I’m half asleep when things happen but every so often things have happened when I am fully lucid and there are people around me.  It’s those times I am thankful.

Years ago, I rented my grandfather’s house while he lived with his second wife in her home.  The house I rented was the house he lived at with my grandmother who had passed away many years ago.  I chose the master bedroom for myself and put my son in the bedroom next door to mine.

The very first night I stayed there my younger sister who was about 11 or 12 at the time stayed with me.  My son had stayed by his grandparents for the night.  As we laid there in the dark trying to sleep, the bedroom door swung open.  It opened with such force; the door hit the wall and bounced halfway back.  My sister and I looked at each other almost to reassure ourselves that the other saw the same thing.  I got up and closed the door, making sure it had closed all the way this time.

My sister and I were a little shaken and as we talked about it I tried to calm her by saying the air conditioner must have kicked on and caused that.  I honestly wanted to believe it myself.  Eventually she went to sleep.

I laid there in silence and my logical side was slowly losing the battle.  The more I thought about it the more my mind tried to piece it all together.  Normally, when the a/c clicked on if the door was partially open it would suck close.  I tried to remember if one of us actually closed the door.  I could not remember either of us closing it all the way.  Then I thought of my grandmother.

After my grandmother died, my mother referred to her as my guardian angel.  So I always pictured her as such, except my guardian angel grandmother had a More Menthol in one hand and Dixie Beer in the other.  Prior to her death, my grandmother gave me a holographic picture that showed two children walking across a bridge, hovering over them was a beautiful angel.  I still have the picture.  It is now above my daughters bedroom door.

There’s one of those “what ifs”.  What if she came into her bedroom trying to see who was there?  After that I thought maybe she didn’t know who I was since she passed when I was 3.  So I began to have little conversations with myself out loud on and off.  I would walk around saying things like, “Maw Maw it’s me, Ashley Denice.”  Sometimes, I would be rocking my son to sleep and I tell her out loud who he was.

A few weeks later, my sister slept over again.  This time through the baby monitor, we heard a woman singing.  We could also hear my son awake, not crying just awake and at ease.

I never felt afraid in the house.  I just felt like I wasn’t alone.  One night, although I did not feel threatened my husband did.  At the time, we were separated.  He was there even though my grandfather had declared he was not welcome.

While I was sleeping, I awoke with the familiar feeling of someone standing over me.  I felt paralyzed.  I was unable to open my eyes or speak.  The next morning before I could tell my husband about my weird “dream”, he began to tell me about someone standing over him during the night.  He said that someone had pushed down on his chest almost like someone was sitting on him.  He said it was almost as if he was pushed right through the bed and box spring onto the floor.  He said he felt a suffocating feeling and he felt paralyzed and unable to fight back.  I stared at him for a few minutes without speaking because I was blindsided by his story.  Eventually, I did and for once my uber logical spouse actually seemed to genuinely believe me.

I’m not about to sit here and write about each and every time anything strange or unusual has happened to me or around me.  I tried to focus on the most recent or most significant.  I hope you enjoyed my “sharing” session.

Back on the Sauce

There are days when my children are little angels. Then, my alarm clock goes off and I realize those weren't my kids at all, but some faceless little dream people. *wink*



Honestly, my kids are great. Yes, they both have these larger than life personalities and, yes, they stress me out more often then I’d like but after I calm down I am usually able to giggle about some of the crazy things that they do and say. Today was one of those days…

My children were finishing up their chores when their friends stopped by to play. I told them they had to finish but their friends were welcome to wait for them since they were both so near completion. I told my daughter to vacuum her room which she did with no problem. Of course, she isn’t the one that seems to lack in the cleanliness department. My son, on the other hand, is a whole other story. (Mom, if you are reading this and I KNOW you are, thanks a lot for your parental curse and for the record my husband does not “trip” through the door so, HA!)

That boy, he is just perfectly satisfied with being funky. If I didn’t tell him to bathe he never would…EVER! Today I walked into his room and something just reeked. It smelled like a combination of rotten bologna and ass crack. When I told him his room was stanktastic, he retorted by saying, “I don’t smell anything.” Of course you can’t, you goober, you’re used to it. Most people don’t recognize their own B.O. especially if they are normally putrid.

While trying to decipher exactly where the stench was coming from without actually sticking my nose up to anything (I didn’t want to pass out, ok??), I told him to take the dirty clothes basket out of his room and change the sheets on his bed and then I’d come in there and Febreeze the shit out of the place. I, then, went about my task of cooking an exquisite meal aka Hamburger Helper.

Later, he came through the kitchen with his friend and said he was done and he was going to play outside. I specifically asked him, “Did you change your sheets?” “Yes.”, he said. Then I asked, “Did you make your bed?” (You got to be very specific!) “Yes.”, he said again. I told him after I finished getting our fancy grub going I would be taking a stroll into his room for verification.  He nodded and walked out the door.

Who thinks he did what was asked of him? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller? Beuller? If you guessed “not a chance in hell” you, my friend, are right! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!

Shockingly, when I went into his room his bed was made. For a second there (and only a second) the heavens opened up and a majestic being surrounded by a radiant white light extended his arms towards me and began to speak in some other worldly tongue. Then I realized the smell of week old gym socks and stale Funyuns were causing me to hallucinate. I glanced over to the dirty clothes basket and it was empty. So where were his sheets? I quickly held my breath and pulled back the comforter just enough to see the same army green sheets on his bed. Damn it, boy!!

At this point, I was angry that he didn’t change his sheets but I was furious that he had lied straight to my face. Enough is enough. It dawned on me that with my husband being away for quite some time I needed to pull in the reins before things got to out of control.

I marched outside and told him to come inside immediately. Once inside, I asked him again if he changed his sheets. He told me he did. I ask him where the old sheets were. He told me they were in his dirty clothes basket. Lies! Lies! Lies! So, I told him I smell bullshit and it stinks almost as bad as his room.

In my calmest yet stern voice (which by the way is more difficult to execute than you might think considering the present circumstances), I told him that I was fed up with his lies and from now on when he lies I will be putting a dab of hot sauce in his mouth. Now I’m not talking wimpy ass Tabasco either. I’m talking hot as a mofo, burning like the freaking sun in your mouth HAWT sauce! I whipped out my husband’s “a little dab will do ya” hot sauce conveniently called “After Death Sauce”. The sight of the bottle made my son start to cry REAL tears. Part of me wanted to take pity and let it go at that but I’m the Queen of Empty-Threats usually which is part of the problem with my kids lately. I knew that by not following through with this he would think he got over on me once again.

Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and put just a smidgen on my index finger. The boy kept backing away from me and I blatantly told him if I need to hold him down so be it. Finally, he gave in and I lightly touched his tongue with my finger. It was barely any but it doesn’t take much to make you feel it.

He proceeded to cry (and I don’t blame him) and pant with his tongue hanging out. I let him squirm for maybe a minute. I’m sure it seemed like at least a half an hour to him. Then, I handed him a glass of milk and a tortilla to help neutralize the burn.

Afterwards, I explained to him that the lying had to stop and this is the new way to remedy it. You lie. You get hot sauce in your mouth. Period. I’m considering implementing this for back talking as well. We’ll see.

Later after their friends went home, I noticed the vacuum in the middle of the floor. I asked the kids which one of them left it there. Of course, both of them said, “Not me!” I pretty much knew it was my daughter because she was the one I told to vacuum earlier. So, I turned to my son and said, “Boy, did you tell your sister what happened to you earlier when you lied to me?” He proceeded to tell her the tale of the sauce. Almost immediately, she leaped up and declared that it was, in fact, her and she raced to rectify the problem.

Maybe to some people this all seems cruel but I’ve never been one to really put my hands on my children other than a swat here and a slap there. I’m always cautious because I have a tendency to loose my temper and the last thing I want to do is hurt them. Now the previous statements are, by no means, me trying to explain myself to anyone that is reading this. I am merely stating facts. I am truly hoping that by giving them a taste of the sauce it will have a similar effect that smacking a toddler’s hand does when they touch an electrical outlet. If I can’t get them to stop the lies now at the young ages of 10 and 7, I am royally fucked when they reach their teen years. I got to stop the madness.  Too bad kids don't come with a manual or at least a website...

Just a quick note here…

I had every intention of blogging about my children and their entrepreneurial tendencies but the above topic had me so heated I had to vent. Hopefully, I’ll get to my children and the future of sales pitching tomorrow evening. That is, if neither of my children don’t end up starting Armageddon between now and then. Cross your fingers for me and my sanity.

I'm About To Lose My Mind...Up In Here!

This school year is going to freaking kill me!


I spoke to my son’s teacher, Mrs. T, today.  I am very glad I had the weekend to simmer down. I was able to speak very calmly to her about the whole ADD issue from Friday.

After speaking to her, I feel she is genuinely concerned about my son. She said she doesn’t want to treat him like he’s lazy if he really does have something wrong with him.

Her side of the story (wait to you see how unlike the boy’s it is)…

She said around dismissal on Friday she noticed that he did not complete grading his paper that they went over in class. She pulled him to the side to ask why. She said he looked confused and she felt that he really had zoned out during the review time. She also said he does this a lot. He’ll go off to la-la land and stare off into the distance. She said she has also seen him doodling numerous times.

My take on this is simply he is bored. When I’m doing something I don’t want to do or something that is boring my mind drifts too. It’s all I can do not to impale myself on the nearest sharp object. I also think that another factor is he has a tendency to be lazy as all hell when he doesn’t want to do something.

I don’t see how a kid that can play video games for hours or take a 12 hour car ride or sit through a movie or even sit quietly and read a book can have ADD. I just can’t! Of course, I’m no expert either.

Mrs. T also told me that when she spoke to the boy she asked him if he was or ever was on medication. He told her yes but I don’t know if he really understood her. He’s never been on any type of medication that treated mental or behavioral issues. All he’s ever taken (other than over the counter stuff) is allergy meds. When I told her this she kind of hesitated. I think she had thought she had hit the nail on the head with her theory.

After I got off the phone with her, I decided there was only one way to solve this. I called the pediatrician to find out if patients are automatically tested for things like ADD or if it something that has to be requested. I figured if it’s automatic they could check the charts for me. Wouldn’t you know it? Nothing is that simple.

I was told that I needed to contact the school counselor to request a Vanderbilt Assessment. Apparently, this assessment has a part I fill out, a part the teacher fills out, and then we see the pediatrician so he can evaluate. I figure, we do this and one of us has to be right. If I’m right, he’s bored and sometimes lazy. If Mrs. T is right, he has a problem that is beyond his control without the proper treatment. Either way, something needs to change for him because the route he’s going is going to lead him straight back to the fifth grade.

For the record, I do NOT believe in pumping my children up with medication for the hell of it. I will try whatever other forms of therapy are available and use the zombie meds as the absolute LAST resort. I think if he can learn how to cope with it and we can understand it better we will know how to help him along, so he can help himself.

Can someone say stress????

Another fun moment today was after school. My daughter came through the door all by herself. I asked where her brother was. She informed me that she waited for him for “like a half an hour”. I made it clear that it was impossible since school only dismissed ten minutes ago. She has no concept of time (or money but that is a whole other story).

At this point, I knew my son would be panicking when he couldn’t find her. So, I grabbed my shoes and headed over to the school. I needed to find him so he knew she was safe. I tell you, they fight like cats and dogs but they look out for one another.

As I got about halfway to school I saw my son coming down the street with my daughter’s teacher, Mrs. Pony (that’s not really her name but it fits her). My son was smart enough to let Mrs. Pony know when he couldn’t find her.

My daughter said she figured since her brother was sick yesterday, she assumed he had gotten checked out when she didn’t see him right away at dismissal. I told her if ever I check either of them out, I will always have the office notify the other one. Also, I told her she is NEVER to walk home alone. I told her I would come up to school to get her. She’s seven and she’s cute and I can’t help but fear the perverts of this world. Better safe than sorry. Too bad I can’t find a fairy godmother to do the whole Sleeping Beauty spell on her. Damn fairytales!

Whew! I’m glad today is over. I need to catch up on some cleaning tomorrow. I’ve been listing so much crap on eBay I’ve neglected a few chores. I’ve got to get back on track.