Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The emotional high was to come in the mail and politely be followed by an emotional low I did not see coming. When the mail arrived yesterday I thought nothing more of it and sat it on the kitchen table. It wasn’t until Ms. Twister began to open the envelopes that my emotional roller coaster ride took off.
Little did I know this was the big hill part of the roller coaster ride?
Bill in hand, sort of waving it at me, she proclaimed, “I guess you did it, looks like all your efforts paid off.” “What on earth are you talking about?” I responded. Months ago I had given up hope on reducing the dang thing so her comments just did not register.
Apparently hope is something you should not give up on and the proof came in our budget adjustment bill. For all my suffering and abiding to Oprah’s guidelines I accomplished reducing the electrical budget by $70 dollars a month. Man, what a high. But that was the top of the hill!
I sat around most of the night tooting my own horn over my accomplishment. I was running threw all the things I had done to achieve such a feat when the memory of one failed good intention sent my coaster to warp speed right down that hill.
At the same time I had set out to tackle our power consumption, I started an earthworm compost bin. I found the idea compelling, less food scraps and worm poop for the flowers.
I had prepared the bins just as instructed, shredded paper and moistened it for an optimal dinning experience, why I even ensured the menu contained only worm worthy food but I must have purchased two containers of Paris Hilton worms.
They did not like the worm worthy food, shredded paper did not enhance their dining experience and I now recall the bins did not pass the Hilton’s hotel standards.
At first it was just a couple of “Hilton Worms” I had to politely return to their new abode. This continued for several days, with the number increasing each morning.
Finally, one day I noticed something on the floor. It was one of my Hilton worms, I picked it up but I was to late and this caused me concern. I placed the worm in the tall silver mausoleum by my workbench, said, “I’m sorry” and headed over to check on the rest of my guests.
I do not know to this day if it was the lower standards, the lack of worm continental cuisine or the fact they just could not produce poop in a strange place but they had all opted for same outcome, suicide. Every last one of them but it was the last one I collected for the mausoleum that provided me a clue.
Me, with worm in hand, heading for the silver mausoleum; worm on it’s last wiggle trying to mount a come back, I felt sad. This is when it raised it’s pointed head and gave me parting words, “B**ch, turn the heat up,” and with that my last worm was gone.
Now after the high of reducing my electrical budget shot me to the top of the hill, remembering my worms had committed suicide sent me in warp speed to low, I was drained.
I still feel bad for the Hilton worms, I had no idea but not so bad I’ll pay their electric bill.