After washing a couple of pairs of tennis shoes recently, I discovered that getting them dry wasn’t as easy as just throwing them in the clothes dryer. Not only did they make a terrible racket as they bounced around inside the rotating drum, they also kept turning off the dryer by hitting the inside of the dryer door.
A little searching online revealed a very simple technique for drying shoes – without noise and without damaging the shoes or the dryer.
- Tie the shoestrings of a pair of shoes together into a loose knot.
- Close the dryer door with the shoes hanging on the inside and the knot on the outside.
- Run dryer until shoes are dry.
Doesn’t get much easier than that! =)
Over the past month, two people have attacked me via Facebook because of my sexuality. Apparently my honesty about my lifestyle is irresistible to those hiding behind computer screens and religious dogma. Both people claimed an interest in saving my soul, but both used rather unusual tactics to express their concern.
One person contacted me privately to tell me that being open about my sexuality was creating an inappropriate influence on children, that I should follow the real Christ instead of a false Christ, and that they didn’t want to go to the judgment with my blood on their hands.
The other responded to a mutual friend’s post about gay marriage that I had commented on. He asked if AIDS is a plague or a cure, before launching into a diatribe about the evils of homosexuality that took a very personal and nasty turn.
God did not make you queer he made you just like everybody else…you have brain washed yourself into believing this stupidity because you want to. Even your parents have taught you better than that….You are looking for justification for your grotesque life style….DO NOT BLAME ANYBODY BUT YOURSELF. IT IS A CHOICE!!
Both people ended their messages by expressing that they love me. I find it ironic that someone could imply that homosexuals deserve to die from AIDS one minute, then tell me they love me the next.
I wonder why I even have a Facebook account, as it provides a means for people to say things to me that they would never consider saying in real life. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.
As if I haven’t been beaten up enough lately, last night I checked the comment queue on this blog to find the following message: ”You sound like a f***ing homo.”
Short and to the point. At least it didn’t include any religious condemnation or hollow expressions of love.
We had a long chat last night about the house that we’ve been considering and came to the conclusion that it’s a bad idea all the way around. Too much work, too much money, too many bad memories. My honey bunny and I deserve a house that’s only filled with our memories.
This map from the 2000 census shows the percentage of same-sex couples by county. Since 2010 marks the first time in history that same-sex marriages will be counted by census officials, I wonder how much green will be added to the map after the results are in?
A report released yesterday by the Los Angeles coroner’s office that performed Michael Jackson’s autopsy specifically notes the presence of the skin disorder Vitiligo. This should put to rest any speculation that Michael was intentionally changing his skin color in an attempt to alter his racial appearance.
Read the entire autopsy report here.
Yesterday afternoon we went to see the house that I mentioned in my last post. Honey has been warming up to the idea a little, so we thought it wouldn’t hurt to call up the realtor and see how the place has held up over the years.
I was appalled at the condition of the property. The beer cans strewn all over the lawn should have been a good indicator of what we could expect inside the house. Most people trying to sell a home would attempt to make it as presentable as possible, but this seller is the exception to the rule.
The inside and outside of the property has been so neglected that it’s virtually unlivable. The bathroom sink has been removed and is lying out in the driveway. Buckets are positioned to catch rainwater that seeps through the ceiling, and large sections of the bathroom floor covering have been ripped up. Central heating and air conditioning registers are missing from the ceiling and cover plates are missing from electrical outlets. It reminded me of the homes that get flipped on HGTV.
I know the house still has potential, but it would cost several thousand dollars to bring it back to life. It needs a new roof, new central unit, complete bathroom remodel, new appliances, paint, and who-knows-what-else.
On the plus side, it has a great location, three acres of land in the county, a full basement, and real hardwood flooring. The lawn would be beautiful with some TLC and I would thoroughly enjoy working on it.
When I called my sister to tell her about the condition of the house where we spent most of our teen years, she reminded me of all of the bad memories associated with the place. My parent’s marriage was crumbling, our parent-child relationships were tumultuous, and it was there that I overdosed and subsequently came out to my family. The few good memories have become cloudy over the years.
Part of me feels a need to save the place, since it was the site of so many important events in my personal history. The other part wonders if looking to the past is really the best way to achieve a happier tomorrow.
Honey actually kind of likes the property and thinks it has a homey feel. He said if we bought it, we’d make our own memories.
