I like the effect of smoke on many things: barbeque, cocktails, and salmon. The air I breathe? Not so much.
Parts of North America are experiencing poor air quality due to the wildfires ravaging Canada. And although the smoke has reached Western Europe, fortunately, it’s not expected to create any serious hazards. Stay safe, Deadspliters, wherever you live.
i smoke….so im not too bothered about a little extra from canadia
its only wood smoke too…. (well…mostly nature stuff) not like a nearby chemical plant is on fire or some shit
currently more worked up about a small thingie the missus thought she’d lost but found again….about ear ring sized… but not that
she wont tell me what it is tho…….says mysteries are fun…
hard disagree on that
mysteries are irritating and infuriating and must be un mysteried
….so yeah….. she’s winding me up on purpose…
welp…i will either let it go or tear the house apart trying to find the mystery object
i has a strong need to know all the things….and then decide…huh…well…didnt need to know that
wont know till i know tho…now will i?
I hate when people pull that, like starting to tell you something then say they can’t because it’s some big ass secret. If you can’t tell then keep it to yourself.
just fucking lie to me….give a plausible answer and i will accept it…. talk around it or go all mysterious about it….or deflect the conversation politician style
and well…sorry… you just became interesting…and im going to dig til i find an answer
same thing goes for whispering around me…..i wasnt interested before…..but i sure as fuck want to find out whats going on now
welp…..wont have to tear the house apart…
it was a switch cartridge
and when i asked why the fuck she’d be cagey about something like that
she said i didnt think you’d be interested…….
i literally asked what it was… how much more interested am i sposed to be?
welp anyways….starting to see us being on the rocks was inevitable
we’re both fucking headcases
Sheesh, if you asked then you were obviously interested.
me constantly asking questions is apparently controlling behaviour
i do ask a lot of them….
but then….. me not asking questions means im not interested
its a bit of a catch 22 me thinks
When I was growing up the Dads worked, sometimes double shifts, like mine, and the Moms were home. Most couldn’t drive and even if they could people had only one car per family. And everyone chainsmoked. Or so it seemed.
So, the stuck-at-home Moms would borrow cigarettes off each other, but there were occasions when the whole 10-house or so colony went dry, and the kids, me among them, would go house to house collecting money or IOUs and then go the local independently owned pharmacy (!) and buy cartons of cigarettes. It was incredible. Me, twelve years old, with a couple of buddies, on my little Huffy bike, and putting in an order for enough cigarettes to blow a health-warning onto the local news. No one questioned this.
And you know what? It was a far, far superior way to live. We had all these stay-at-home Moms. Did they helicopter us? Oh no. Just the opposite. “Get out and don’t come back until the streetlights come on.” You have a bike? Take the back roads and go 10 miles each way, any direction, just to do it. Take a look around. Watch out for the drunk drivers!
I don’t know, I grew up at the same time and my mom worked. So did many of my friends mother’s. I don’t think any one age has been superior. Each has its own kind of problems. 🤷🏻♀️
Hard disagree, my friend. You and I are almost exactly the same age, if I’ve deduced your clues correctly. And I have the benefit of seeing both sides of that equation. My mother worked, and was a generally happy, productive human being. She had her issues, but overall, she enjoyed her life.
My mother-in-law was a stay-at-home mother, who did exactly nothing but smoke. Literally. She had a maid and she met with her “friends” (we’ll come back to that) and she generated clouds of smoke. And that was the majority of her miserable life. She bitches and complains constantly, has had several types of cancer, is almost completely deaf, and is generally such a horrible human being that her “friends” simply refuse to be around her. The sad thing is that she once was fairly intelligent and could have contributed something to life on this planet. And yet she did not. She sits like a shriveled spider in a house full of hoarder garbage and complains. Nonstop. Every single word is nothing but how miserable she is.
Now that’s only two data points, but I don’t think a lifetime of soap operas and nicotine actually makes anybody happy.
I would love to go back to a time where I couldn’t get a loan or credit card without my father’s or husband’s permission. I mean… that sounds great.
Make America Great Again, right?
I’m not entirely sure my mother enjoyed her life, and by the time my father died she had her driver’s license and went to work (retail) and had this whole crony crew of work friends.I became so close to one of them that my mother referred to her as my other mother, and we used to exchange holiday and birthday cards. But I’m telling you, it was extremely uncommon for a woman on my street to have a job or know how to drive when I was growing up. And it was wasn’t because there was a lot of money flowing around. Probably just the opposite: the men (and the women) had just barely climbed into the middle class and came from more traditional backgrounds. Also, my father was 36 when I was born, and his mother was barely allowed to leave the house, let alone find employment, and she had him fairly late in life.
It was interesting to me to see on “Mad Men” that the women all drove these enormous cars and had jobs and careers, some of them, but that wasn’t the way my neighborhood generally worked.
I suspect regional differences are in play here. There were very few careers in rural Florida that would allow a man to feed, clothe, and house a family. There were a few ladies at church that had the luxury of staying home, but their husbands were accountants and lawyers, if memory serves. There were a couple of men that owned businesses, like septic tank or air conditioning installation and repair, that were wealthy. And their wives could stay home. But in my neighborhood, consisting of dirt roads and empty lots where we played? The only women at home were retirees.
My mother went to college and then had three kids after she got married. One day my father’s car broke down somewhere and he was several hours late getting home. No cell phones and very few actual landlines back then. She realized that if he was dead her options were to 1) marry some other schmuck who would “accept” three kids (her mother was forced to do this) or 2) get a job. She immediately enrolled in graduate school.
The advantage of working parents to me was enormous freedom. Nobody looked for me between daybreak and dinner (my father was 40 when I was born and he got that child rearing stuff out of his system years before me). I got home from school at 2:30 or 3 pm, and it was hours before anyone else came home except my little sister. It was trivially easy for me to skip school. I’d hide somewhere until I saw my parents leave and then go back home for the day. No calls or computer monitoring — you provided a paper note from your mother the next day, and I was better at my mom’s handwriting than she was. There wasn’t a hell of a lot to DO, mind you, until I got old enough to sneak off to the beach.