You know how people say that "truth is stranger than fiction?" The thing about fiction is that you WANT it to seem like truth, so it can't be TOO outlandish or people would say "No way, that would never happen." Even though the things that happen in real life are FAR stranger and worse and weirder, because those are the things no one would believe if they weren't true. My life, for example. It would be terrible fiction. Who would believe it? Okay, maybe not my WHOLE life. But today, for sure. Today started out great and then just kept sliding downhill at a gallop and now it's all I can do to...
I have very little to report, because I often try to stick to the whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" thing. Oh. You're laughing. Right. Well, there is a small exception to that rule, you know, which is that if you don't have anything nice to say but you DO have something funny to say, then go ahead. In that case, I go ahead. Today I have nothing nice or funny, though I do have 2600 square feet of boat anchor around my neck, so if my posture is a little off, that's why. While chatting with Susan this evening and complaining that I had nothing to blog...
I had THINGS to do today, and STUFF to say, and I was planning to write about this copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys that I received, too. [Monkey: Does it shoot poison darts? Me: Nooooo.... Monkey: Is it filled with sharp knife blades? Me: Um, no. Monkey: Well then why is it DANGEROUS? Me: Hey, they have instructions for the best paper airplane in here--- Monkey: COOL! GIMME!] But none of that matters now. None of it. Do you know why? I will tell you why. I can sum it up in one word: Lice. Just in case you didn't catch that: LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE! Nothing shatters a day's orderly plans...
Wanna know how the second showing with the Lowballs went? First allow me to recap. The FIRST time they came to the house, they were so late in arriving, I came home 90 minutes after they were supposed to be GONE and they were still here. Oh, well. Then they made their ridiculous, insulting offer. Then they decided to come back a second time, which made my realtor all happy. Then today they showed up half an hour early and walked in without ringing the bell (scaring the hell out of my children) and acted like I'd done something wrong. Which was all PERFECTLY FINE. It was even fine when we got...
Today was utterly craptastic for a number of reasons, and as the day progressed it just continued getting more unbelievable and difficult, until finally I decided that for the next week I am not thinking about anything other than what color I might like to paint my nails. Look, I've really never given being vapid a heartfelt shot. Maybe I'll enjoy it. You might be able to grasp the level of suckosity when I tell you that the LEAST heinous thing that happened today was that we got an offer on the house. And not just ANY offer, but a real humdinger. Yes. These generous folks wanted to give us...
I live at Panera now. As I'm unable to complete my work at home with my COMCASTIC internet (non)service, I've decided to just throw in my lot with the baristas and sandwich-makers. It's gotta beat spending one or two hours every day on the phone with the nice, polite people in Canada who don't know anything "aboot" the fact that my local technician center is manned by mentally-impaired toddler yaks. This morning at 4:30 (I got up early to work, you know, hoping my COMCASTIC internet was back on, SILLY ME) the nice Canadian at Comcast who HAS internet service listened to my tale and admitted...
The Pretty One is off the grid. Again. Hopefully she’ll be back online again in the morning, but until then you get my musings. And if she’s not online in the morning, she’s headed to the wireless store. (Think our parents had any idea one of those was coming? Well, perhaps – they did invent the Radio Shack. Kind of the same thing.) So our evening conversation wandered around as it always does. She hates the weather up there. She hates her cable provider. She hates icy roads that prevent her from getting to the grocery store. But the kidlets loved the made-from-scratch pancakes....
It's T-minus one month, folks, before I put on the dress and the shoes and swear at my hair a little bit and go become Mrs. Otto. There are a million reasons (well, half a dozen, anyway) that we've settled on the day we did, and we've long since made peace with the fact that we'll essentially be stealing a weekend for the wedding and a brief getaway before Otto goes back to Georgia and I finish up dealing with things here for another month and a half or so before The Big Move. We are accustomed to the long distance thing; we don't like it, but we're used to it. And it's temporary. Come late...
Maybe it's just a coincidence that, well, everyone seems to have gone COMPLETELY INSANE since we changed the clocks, but I dunno. I think the cosmic balance has been upset. Or Mercury is in retrograde. Or there's a monster on the wing of the plane. (Wait, not that last one, probably.) Seriously, the last few days I've been having a difficult time for a variety of uninteresting reasons, and then I started looking around and realized that really, it's fine, because everything and everyone else has gone haywire and by comparison it's all good. Regardless, that will not stop me from doing some...
