Put it in your heart and keep it.

Posted: April 28, 2010 in books, Home, Music, pets, vacation

Title brought to you by this song, that I currently have stuck in my head.

I got up early to be prepared for the exterminator, whom I thought was scheduled to arrive between eight and twelve today. Then I glanced at the piece of paper where I wrote down the information yesterday, and saw that the date was 4/29, not 4/28. Tomorrow, not today. I have vacation brain, and I’ve gotta say, I’m not too upset about that.

Oh, and if you’re interested, the toilet needs to be replaced. The siphon jet is irreparably clogged from hard water deposits. That will be $95 dollars, thank you very much, and get ye to Home Depot. Weirdly, the plumber was handing out free cookbooks with every home visit. Because everyone needs a good recipe for rack of lamb after messing with their clogged drains and backed up toilets?

Joy (Robert’s girlfriend) and I are tentatively scheduled to go clothes and shoe shopping today. I find her company to be quite delightful, so I’m looking forward to our “girl day”. I’m just waiting for a decent hour to call her – she works nights so I don’t want to wake her up too early on her day off.

I spent nearly four hours cleaning the bedroom yesterday, and I’m shocked that I didn’t succumb to a fatal asthma attack during the process. I off-loaded our entire bedroom closet, bagged up the cold weather clothing and stuff we just don’t wear anymore, and bagged up stuff that didn’t need to reside in our bedroom closet (hello? snorkels? from our trip to Hawaii? back in 2003???). I sorted through all of the shoes. Picked up at least two dozen loose bullets that had fallen out of the bag. Threw out eighteen bazillion manuals and binders and whatnot from Bill’s previous training classes. I piled up twenty bazillion cords and routers and mysterious computer-type gadgets and widgets for sorting through later. I vacuumed the entire closet (DUST BUNNIES OF DOOM) then re-loaded everything, plus a bunch of other stuff that had been hanging out in various corners of the bedroom because there was no room to put them anywhere. Thus I was able to reclaim the computer desk, from which I am writing at this moment. I made about fourteen trips up and down the stairs to put all of the stuff we’re keeping in the spare bedroom. Out of sight, out of mind. Until we go to look for something and have to tear that room apart to find it.

I pulled up the blinds and vacuumed off the window sills, then vacuumed the blinds themselves. Ran the hose attachment up every corner and along where the wall meets the ceiling to remove webs and dust. Crawled on my belly under the bed and dragged out books and papers and shoes that had gotten kicked under there. Dusted the dresser, the bedside table, the desk, the TV, the fridge and components. Made the bed, vacuumed the floor, sprayed Febreeze everywhere, then collapsed in a wheezing heap.

The rest of the day was spent catching up on a little bit of DVR’d TV, reading (I’ve finished three books this week), and working out. Glee made me cry, I talked to Bill a few times on the phone, and I went to bed at 9:30.

Speaking of reading, I am currently indulging in the fluffiest bit of fluff right now. How a series of books can come off so idyllic and naive and innocent and saccharine, yet manage to have the characters indulging in fifteen sexual encounters in EACH CHAPTER, is beyond me. They’re Sharon Lathan’s imagining of the Darcy’s life beyond where it left off in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, if you’re interested. I’ve read Two Shall Become One and Loving Mr. Darcy so far. I’m enjoying them, though I do occasionally roll my eyes at all of the worshipfulness and heartrending sighs and meaningful glances and rhapsodies and declarations of love everlasting and whatnot.

Poor Gypsy. She’s getting so deaf and blind. Porsche managed to get within a foot of her the other night, while Gypsy was lying in the grass in the back yard. I mean, Gypsy was looking in her direction and I thought she saw her approaching. But just as Porsche bent down to sniff her ear, all of a sudden Gypsy leaps up and utters a hysterical “BERF!” (Gadget then ran off at right angles, barking up at the sky. Idiot.) Gypsy jumped back like, two feet, with a ridge of fur all along her backbone and her tail all pipe-cleanered, and GLARED at Porsche. Poor dog had the poop scared right out of her. I’ve caught her a few times not noticing me when I go out into the back yard, until I call loudly and get right up to her. Her eyes are getting cloudy and her muzzle is almost completely gray now. Pup still knows exactly where her dinner bowl is, though. Silly ol’ girl.

Okay, I’m going to go hunt up some breakfast, then work out and shower before heading out shopping. You guys behave until I get back!

Advertisements
Comments
  1. jadesymb says:

    Glee made me bawl!

  2. Taoist Biker says:

    Good lord, all that talk of cleaning got me downright turned on. Our house is such a wreck that it’s not even funny.

  3. iamheatherjo says:

    “I do occasionally roll my eyes at all of the worshipfulness and heartrending sighs and meaningful glances and rhapsodies and declarations of love everlasting and whatnot.”

    Oh! The irony! 😉

  4. I am tiring of people liking Glee. No one liked Cop Rock when it came out. I am SOOOO glad I am not gay. And not even for the “sticking things in my butt” reason…

  5. Shelli says:

    Plumbers and cookbooks; only reason I can think of is so that you’ll be better “equipped” to clog up the toilet, and need his services again? 😉

    Um, I don’t do behave! It’s against my … my … aw hell, it’s against something!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s