Best interest at heart

Today an acquaintence of my MIL - a lady she met while walking the dog and they became friendly - volunteered to go with my MIL to my new apartment and wash the windows. Didn't want any pay - she simply wanted to help us in any way she could. The windows were filthy and they spent a few hours getting them sparkling clean and then my MIL took the lady out to lunch.

We have a friend that B and my MIL have known for twenty years. He's been to our home and the summer home of my MIL literally dozens of times for parties and for just hanging out. He's an electrician who was layed off this summer and B called him and asked him to please put in a couple extra wall sockets and to hang the ceiling lights. For pay, mind you - when friends and acquaintences do work for us in their area of expertise we always pay them for the amount they ask. Today when he called to arrange to meet up with me so he could see what needed to be done so he can buy the parts he acted as though this were a grand imposition on him - and if it were all he need say was that he didn't have time to do the work for us or wasn't interested - and he whined that it's paid parking at our new building. Okay, add it to the bill. Problem solved.

Let's recap. Acquaintence of my MIL that I have seen literally twice in my life and if she didn't have her little dog with her I may not even recognize her if I passed her on the street volunteered to wash my windows for free. Friend of twenty years whined about paid parking.

Guess who's going to be invited first to afternoon coffee?

Überraschung Ei Blogging - Twofer Edition

I opened two eggs today. I had a sweet tooth thing going.

Roll your cursor over the plastic bits to see the magic.



Patrick Star keychain! I love Patrick.

No clue as to what this'll be.



Hmm. Still no clue, but he's definitely got an attitude.

Number one on the To Do list

Knit. I know I have other things that on the surface seem more important, for example - packing, but I am so up to my eyes with half finished projects I can't even get them sorted to pack without getting them twisted, tangled and dropping stitches.

Hope no one wants any of the things I have on needles for Christmas because it's just not happening.

Becoming a minimalist

It's a little too early to admit defeat but this packing thing is whipping my ass. It's not the effort. It's not the hauling out, wrapping up, stacking, digging through, hoisting, pushing, shoving or walking through the maze of packed boxes.

It's the fact that this shit simply won't end!

The more I pull out of drawers and cabinets, the more shit I find. Where did it all come from? I don't remember buying all this stuff. Yeah, I can blame it on B - he's lived in this apartment for twenty years but most of the stuff doesn't seem to be related to him.

Now I'm being brutal with myself. If it's a book I read and hasn't made it to my list of all time favorites, it goes. If it's a CD that I haven't listened to in years and I even forgot I had it, it goes. If it's an item of clothing I haven't worn in a year, two at the most, it goes. I won't say I'm throwing out more than I'm packing but the throw out piles are out of control, mostly, I suppose, because I don't have time to constantly go down to the trash room to put it in the dumpster.

I wish I had one of those big containers that a truck would deliver and set right under my window so I could simply pitch this shit out the window.

I have two-and-a-half weeks to get packed. We are moving in seventeen days. I'm not going to make it. I don't have a choice but to make it but right now if I had to lay money on it, I'd bet on me still tossing shit into boxes as the movers attempt to cart them away.

Shameless brag

My review from Charlotte the Baby Bitch at I Talk Too Much -

Ms Dixie is a Mississippian who has been living in Germany for years. She types a lot about the food she misses, including Hellman’s Mayonnaise. My Mom’s from Alabama, and she misses Fruit Loops. Maybe Ms Dixie and Mom can trade!

Ms Dixie’s writings are very funny. She’s a wacky lady living among the Germans, and she has managed to stay relatively sane after all these years. Good on her.

Her blog’s template is bog standard and doesn’t match the unique content within. Although her site is easy to read, it would be nice to see something a bit more snazzy.

I appreciate the nice comments. And I really do need to learn how to snazz this thing up a little, don't I?

Friday Shuffle - Friday Night Dance Edition

Pulled from my 70s folder - stuff you may have heard while I got down at the dance in the gym after the home football game.

1. The Hustle - Van McCoy and the Soul City Symphony
2. Play That Funky Music - Wild Cherry
3. Cold as Ice - Foreigner
   
4. Baracuda - Heart
   
5. Get Dancin' - Disco Tex and the Sex-O-Lettes
6. Strawberry Letter 23 - The Brothers Johnson
7. Jet Airliner - The Steve Miller Band
8. Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
9. Kiss You All Over - Exile
10. Sweet Emotion - Aerosmith
    

If you wear a cowl neck sweater to a dance you'll just end up sweating. Better to wear a plaid blouse and your jeans vest.

Pulled from the forgotten corners

As I am trying to forget my frustrations regarding moving and am trying to live by my new mantra, "It's only stuff! It's only stuff!", we'll dedicate this entry to the small, moth eaten and web covered thoughts that seem to collect in the corners like back issues of McCall's Magazine.

But numbered because the uptight part of my personality simply demands it.

1. Snacky Cracky. That's the store brand name of the potato flour crackers (baked, not fried!) I bought today. Nevermind that they're a tasty pesto flavor. Nevermind that the crackers are shaped like landmarks of various western European capitals - the Little Mermaid representing Copenhagen being my favorite. The name Snacky Cracky alone was enough to make me buy it. However the names of the store brands of cereal - Master Crumble and Choc Blop - are not tempting me, although Choc Blop rather amuses me in that sort of juvenile humor sort of way.

2. I got a flu shot today and not only do I feel all protected but am proud of myself for not hyperventilating myself into a dead faint when she pulled out the injections from her bag.

3. While on the topic of heath, my doctor proclaimed my blood tests from last month to be "excellent" and she said to just keep doing what I'm doing. I wonder if she knows that sometimes what I'm doing is digging into a jar of peanut butter with a KitKat Chunky. I should probably ask her for specific numbers and even exactly what tests she's doing (the only one I know for sure is a Hac1 test for my diabetes) but I like to stay in a bit of denial and not get wound up with things like numbers unless she does.

4. I should have "Ignorance is bliss" tattooed on myself. Maybe after the moving thing is done I'll make it my new mantra.

5. I have a feeling that when I move I'm going to find tubes of lipstick crammed into the strangest places.

6. I hope I find my blue topaz earrings too.

7. I like how shower gels have scents to put you in a certain mood - to revitalize you or calm you down. What if you want to stay in your pissy mood? How about shower gels with scent names like "Why Hasn't He Called?" or "Child Support's Late Again!" or "Can't I Take a Shower Without You Wanting Something From Me?".

8. I wish my friend in New York, Jen, could get the job she's been interviewing for. I pray daily for it. She works in the world's shittiest, most confusing, most poorly managed firm one could imagine and she doesn't deserve it. Please God, let the Girl from the Boogie Down get this new gig!

9. I had the most fabulous nap late this afternoon. One of those massive naps where you wake up during it but you're so out of it you can't even figure out how to get your eyes open and you feel paralyzed and so you just go back to sleep for another hour.

10. Thank God for my husband. He's been handling my freak-outs and kitchen obsessions like a champ. Y'all have too. Thanks.

Positively volcanic

I hate it when I have a meltdown. Losing my shit and freaking out isn't something I relish. It upsets and exhausts me and I hate becoming out of control.

And yet for an hour late this afternoon I had to indulge myself with a good rant.

First things first. Landlord Lady showed up with another lady from the rental company in tow. She introduced Mystery Lady but didn't say why Mystery Lady was there. A few minutes later the lady from the handicap advocacy bureau - let's just call her Handicap Lady - showed up as well. Handicap Lady is the same one who came at the urging of the Loud Family to the big meeting at the rental company office held a couple weeks ago.

What did I get out of the meeting? Not a lot. They're absolutely not going to chip in with any of my moving expenses and I honestly didn't expect them too. It's not in their interest to do that and unless I sue them, which they know I won't, why should they do me a favor? However I am not going to walk away completely empty handed. I'm normally supposed to restore the apartment to the original stripped down state which would cost me around 300€. They're going to take care of it instead and suck up the cost. At this point I'm more than interested in saving even 300€.

Landlord Lady asked if the Louds have changed their ways since the big meeting and we told them that they certainly have not. It's like that meeting never took place. Landlord Lady got all thin lipped and told Handicap Lady that they needed to start eviction proceedings. It's too late for us but the rental company knows that if they don't get this solved once and for all they'll never be able to keep a renter in this apartment and they can ill afford to leave it unrented. I got the impression that Handicap Lady is completely disgusted with the Louds. She's going to speak with them again to let them know they're soon to be up Shit's Creek without a paddle and that she's given her approval for the rental company to start the eviction. Evidently the rental company can't start an eviction against a handicapped person without this agency's approval and they just got it. There was a bit more chat about how the Louds have taken no steps whatsoever to improve and how they expect everyone else to just bear whatever they dish out.

Oh! And I found out the rental company isn't paying for that new bathtub. They had refused to pay for it so the Louds got money from some charity for handicapped people. Well, looks like the rental company gets a free bathtub.

They all left soon afterwards and Handicap Lady said to B "When you get moved in your new place and get settled I'd like to come visit you there.". Oh yeah. She's definitely switched camps. And Mystery Lady? Still have no idea why she was there. She never said boo to a goose the entire time.

Later in the afternoon the carpenter from the moving company came to see my kitchen and to figure out what to do with it all...and it's not good. I figured I may lose one or two cabinets. I'm going to lose four. Could only be three but will probably be four. I damn near died.

I'm going to be able to keep my hanging cabinets but I simply don't have enough room in there for most of the floor ones. If I cram in more I won't be able to move freely in there. It's just killing me to think that my beautiful cabinets that have the wonderful deep storage drawers are not going to fit. Oh. And I have to have all new countertops since they're having to change the cabinet arrangement. More money spent.

I got home from the new apartment and that's when I went into vaporlock. I am so, so, so, so fucking pissed off. I am so furious that I am wasting over 1500€ of cabinets. I am livid that the kitchen I saved five years to buy is being reduced to a mere shell of its former glory. And why? Because some anti-social shitwit cannot turn his fucking television down and take a crap without screaming like a banshee. These idiots cannot seem to live among other people without making them miserable.

I waited so long to get that kitchen. We saved so long to get something that would be really nice. I was so proud of that kitchen and I've loved having it. Now I'll have a nice kitchen but it won't be as nice.

I feel like a person who has had to live on bread and water for five years while I saved up to go to the best restaurant in town. I finally got to the restaurant, they put the perfect meal before me, I got down three bites and then it was all taken away from me and I was presented a grease stained bag from McDonald's and am being told that I'm going to have to live with that as my meal. I had the perfect kitchen right in my hand and I'm losing it.

Of course I'm overreacting. If I had never bought the new kitchen I'd be buying one now and it wouldn't be much different than what I'll have with moving my current one. It's not that I have crap for a kitchen, it's the fact that the room itself is just a third the size of what I have now and that actually is the normal size of kitchens in apartment - it's my current kitchen that's the freak size.

All this is going to mean is that I will have to arrange things differently. I can do this. I really can. But it's pissing me off that I have to.

I didn't like what this did to me this afternoon. I didn't like being a crying mess. Why am I crying over kitchen cabinets anyway? I guess it's because I am really filled with some truly deep anger and this is not good. I feel such hatred towards these people. I mean the hate that gives off the heat of a thousand white hot burning suns. This is not good. Not good at all.

I'm not the sort of person who hates. I will say I dislike something or someone but rarely say that I hate. Hate is a word I reserve for situations like pedophelia and racism. Hate is a word I reserve for people like Hitler and Stalin. Hell, I don't even say I hate George W. Bush, although I come close at times. But I hate this family. Every last one of them. I hate them with a seething passion.

Well after my meltdown and after letting it all out on B's ears I did feel better. I know I can get used to the kitchen as it will be and it won't be bad. And so many good things are going to be available to me now, not the least of which is having some peace. Losing my peace and peace of mind isn't worth the most wonderful kitchen in the world.

And once I am moved and once I'm settled in and once my ears positively ring with the sounds of a quiet home, I will let go of this anger once and for all. I am going to forgive the Loud Family for what they've put us through. Not because any of it's been okay. Instead I'm going to forgive them so that I can put this anger and hate away once and for all. It's the gift I'm giving myself. I am giving myself the gift of starting each day without them being my first thought and without them holding sway over my life.

And you know me taking a nail and scratching "Booger Eater" on their mailbox door may help as well.

AAAGGGHHH!

Jesus, I'm pissed. I'm so damn pissed that I spent time writing a blog entry that even remotely smacks of a discussion of those jackasses living above me. I am so sick to death of them invading my life and in turn invading yours as well.

My apologies for yet another entry devoted to the frustration of living with the most anti-social creatures ever created.

Well. Sit tight, folks. Soon I shall lavish you with tales of packing/moving/unpacking, knitting projects and endless yapping about just how fabulous the Christmas market is and how I wish to marry and have the babies of the people from Holland who come to the Christmas market to sell their wildly tasty fried fish.

Don't come to me later and say I didn't warn you.

The final countdown

It doesn't end. It doesn't end, it doesn't end, it doesn't end. I don't seem to be able to go a day without the crap with the Louds invading my life.

I bought new carpet yesterday and it's being delivered tomorrow to the new place between 10am and 2pm. After that I have to haul ass home because on Wednesdays B's physiotherapist comes for his therapy and after that the carpenter from the moving company - the all important man who is going to move my kitchen into the new place and make it all fit - is coming by to see the kitchen and take measurements. My day is fully booked and I don't have time for extra crap. Until...

Today the lady from the rental company - the one that handles my old apartment, not the fabulous woman who handles my new one - called my MIL saying she wanted to meet with us tomorrow at 10:45 in my apartment. My MIL told Landlord Lady we're expecting an important delivery tomorrow and Landlord Lady said that she's having someone from the handicap advocacy office - the same woman who showed up to the meeting a couple weeks ago - come with her to our home and tomorrow at 10:45 was the only time she could do it. Am I wrong her or should she have made the appointment with us first?

So I'm having to get an acquaintence of my MIL to go to my new apartment and wait for my carpet delivery so I can be there to meet with these nitwits. I'm going to have to pay this woman for her time. But it's important for me to be there because now we're likely getting down to brass tacks.

Three-and-a-half weeks ago we wrote a letter to the president of the rental company explaining our plight and saying that we've received no satisfaction for our problem with the Louds and that the ill effect it's having on B's health is forcing us to move. It's not a screaming, freak-out letter. On the contrary, it's very civil and professional and we state in it that we don't believe it's fair that we should have to carry the full financial burden of moving just because the rental company has done nothing to resolve our problem. And you know it is truly costing us a lot to move. Leaving the new sofa and chair out of it, I'm still having to pay for a moving company, for someone to modify our brand new kitchen, new curtains, new paint and new carpet plus we have to pay to have our old apartment stripped down - all flooring and wallpaper removed and the walls made white again.

Nothing has been done at all until we wrote that letter. The big meeting my MIL went to a couple weeks ago? That was arranged after we wrote the letter. It's not until we've yanked the biggest crank of all that we got any action out of anyone.

I don't have any real idea of what Landlord Lady wants tomorrow but the time for compromise or understanding on our part is over. No more favors from us. The only thing I want to hear tomorrow is "We'd like to offer you a settlement." and that's it. This time she's not going to be facing my pushover MIL. This time B's going to be there and he doesn't back down from anyone.

And as a sidenote, the Louds have their TV blaring right now. Why should they be afraid of eviction? The landlord just installed today a new bathtub for them because they demaned one. They have absolutely no intention of evicting these asses.

Monday Überraschung Ei Blogging

Or Kinder Surprise Eggs for those of you who know them better by that name.



Roll your cursor over the egg to see the what's inside. Why it's a capsule with a toy in it. Surprise!



Yikes! Shark on my ass!

And special thanks to Jen who not only has a wonderful, fun blog (get yourself over there and read it!) but has directed her readers here to learn how to do that fun little photo trick!

Backdraft

For the third time in what... six, seven weeks? there's a fire here in my building. Right now. Right this moment the fire department is here. I'm not sure exactly where it's located in the building except to say that it must be in the elevator or the basement or in the stairwell because a fireman just came through banging on doors and ringing doorbells and yelling for us not to open our doors because of the smoke.

I'm going to guess that it's some dickhead in our building doing this. And I'm going to guess that if I find out who it is, I'm going to tear his head off for it.

I cannot wait to move out of this hellhole.

Ahhh. More news. My MIL just called and said a neighbor friend of ours that lives in the entrance next to ours (the building is a huge monster that goes the length of the block but there are nine separate entrances) called her and said there's a fire in her entrance as well (explains why I saw the fire truck more towards that entrance although I can see a water hose going into our entrance) and she's without power. Good thing I just lowered B into his bed. He had been sitting upright using his computer and if the power went out here too he'd be stuck that way.

I'm getting nervous to live here any longer and even more nervous for my MIL because she's not moving to her new apartment until December 9th. Next thing you know they'll burn the building down around us.

Ho, Ho and Ho

Katy wanted to see my new Santas. How could I say no?



This one was a spontanious selection. I was passing him by but I like his shape and liked that he was holding the little tree so he made the cut.



This Santa is a tea light holder. I haven't lit him up yet but I imagine he'll look great on my kitchen window sill. There was one similar but with a much broader body that I passed on because I thought he'd take up too much precious window sill display space. I like how is face is a little brown like he's been in the Santa Tanning Bed.



This is the guy I saw in the sales paper that spurred me on to drive to the other end of the city to find and buy him. Look at that silly, roly poly body of his!



Hands behind his back. Like he's just waiting for the reindeer to get their act together and get hitched up to the sleigh.

I've said that I have reached my Santa purchasing limit for the season but you and I both know that that's crap. If I see a cool Santa that I must have, he's going home with me.

Friday Shuffle - Da Ya Think I'm Sexy Edition

From my Rod Stewart folder:

1. The First Cut is the Deepest
2. People Get Ready
3. Mandolin Wind
4. You Wear it Well
5. Having a Party
6. Forever Young
7. You're in my Heart
8. Every Picture Tells a Story
9. Infatuation
10. Have I Told You Lately

Yeah, he's a little cheesy but I love him. And Have I Told You Lately is my and B's song.

Around my elbow to get to my thumb...

...or why I should consult a street map once in a while.

I had time this afternoon to go in search of a sofa and I'd planned to stop at the new apartment along the way to take a couple patio chairs and a folding card table to use over there when we have to do things like wait for deliveries and such. After that I would get on the by-pass, called the Ring, and drive to the south side of the city to a home furnishings store where I could get the Santa figurines I wanted and could do some sofa hunting.

I've lived in Magdeburg for just short of eight years. Even so I don't actually drive in the city all that often. I mostly travel by streetcar and save trips in the car for when I'm going to more outer parts of the city such as this particular home furnishings store. Driving in the center of the city is something I've only done very few times and so I'm not always sure how to get from one place to another unless a streetcar line happens to go in that particular direction.

After dropping off the chairs at the new place I headed towards the Ring and found that there was road construction - actually streetcar track repair - along the road that would take me to the Ring. I took another road instead that would take me south and I figured that I'd eventually see a sign directing me to the Ring. I drove further and further, not getting concerned per se but not wishing to get lost either, and then - Ta Da! - I saw it - an exit sign for the Ring.

Very proud of how I found where I needed to go even if I wasn't exactly familiar with where exits were located I got on the Ring and realized that I was going in the wrong direction. Simple to remedy, right? Just get off at the next exit, turn around and get on the Ring in the opposite direction.

As I was driving on the Ring traffic began to come to a screeching halt due to a broken down car in the left lane - one of those situations where you tensely mutter "Shitshitshitshitshit stopstopstopstopstop!" as you eye the sea of brake lights in front of you and the big ass grill of the truck climbing up your ass in the back. Anxious to get going in the right direction and to get out of the traffic jam I took the next exit without really reading the sign until I was already commited to exiting.

"Hauptbahnhof/Stadt Zentrum"

Great. I got off on the exit where I'd gotten fucked up in the first place. The exit where I can't turn around and get back on the Ring because they're fixing the streetcar tracks.

Not interested in making the same get-on-the-Ring-in-the-wrong-direction mistake a second time, especially when I knew the traffic would be backed up from there to hell and back I went with my fallback plan. Whenever I'm lost I try to get back to where I'm familiar with the area and begin again. I decided I'd cut back through the city and get back on the Ring at the point where I would go if I were coming from my apartment.

Worked, naturally.

Once I reached the home furnishings store I wasn't as interested in searching for sofas as I was searching for Santas but first things first. I tromped all over the upholstered furniture section and if the sofa was within my budget it was either ugly or too long (needing a shorter sofa in the new apartment is why I'm hunting for one in the first place) and if it was suitable it was more than I was willing to pay.

Screw it. I went off to buy Santas.

I'd been back home for a half hour when my MIL came by asking how I did on the sofa hunt (she was less interested in the Santa search) and when I told her I crapped out she suggested that we go to the home furnishings store where I'd bought our kitchen.

This store has more sofas and while I found sofas that were suitable to me, my MIL kept saying why they just weren't right. She'd become thin lipped when I'd say I liked a certain upholstry and I'd gotten to the point where I was about to say "Look, if you want to pick it out, you pay for it.". In reality her input wasn't so bad but I was thirsty, sweaty (why are furniture stores so damn hot inside?), my feet hurt and I wanted to go home.

We finally found a sofa we both approved of that happened to be in leather and asked if I could get it in a fabric covering and when I was told I could I picked out a dark khaki color upholstry. I hadn't planned on getting a chair in the same fabric and color - I was more interested in getting something coordinating instead of matching - but, again, I was thirsty, sweaty, my feet hurt, I wanted to go home and it was twenty minutes before closing time. Screw it. In my home the sofa always poops out before any chairs so when I have to buy another sofa in five years the matching chair will still be practically like new and I'll do the coordinating thing then.

So the sofa and chair are ordered, delivery will be in about nine weeks ("I'm pretty sure you'll have it before Christmas!") and I got a 15% discount as well so I'm happy. Three hundred euros saved is three hundred euros saved and I can use all the money saving I can get right now. I'm having the typical Gee-did-I-really-buy-the-right-thing? post purchase second thoughts but it's khaki. It doesn't get more neutral than that. And hopefully it won't scream "I'm covered in white dog hair again! Get out the vacuum and the upholstry tool!" like my current sofa does on a regular basis.

I'm also feeling a sense of accomplishment. I got misdirected and got myself righted again, I was able to track down a sofa I liked without strangling my MIL in the process and I finally got back home to get a long drink of water and to get my shoes off.

And I bought Santas.

The upside

Know what's the best part about moving? You can drop all sorts of shit on the carpet, grind it in at will and absolutely not give a damn.

Sparks

Today while in line at the grocery store I picked up a roll of Wint-O-Green LifeSavers and I remembered a story my friend Frank told me.

Back when Frank was in college he worked part time for the campus police. Their office was in a trailer and one afternoon while chatting with the police officers the conversation somehow turned to Frank mentioning that Wint-O-Green LifeSavers spark when you crunch them in the dark. None of the others had heard of this and in fact claimed that Frank was completely full of shit so Frank produced a roll, lead the others back into a darker room, closed the blinds and began crunching the LifeSavers. No one saw a thing. He tried again. Nothing was seen. Frank attempted to close the blinds tighter claiming there was too much light and crunched more. Nothing. The police officers claimed they weren't being fooled a bit by Frank and proclaimed his experiment a bunch of hooey.

Frank, on the other hand, was certain that he was right about the sparks and he was just as certain that the extra light bleeding through the blinds was the reason his test didn't work. He was determined to prove to himself that sparks were indeed visible when crunching Wint-O-Green LifeSavers in the dark.

Frank left the campus police trailer and walked to the nearby science building. He went down into the basement, banged open the men's room door, flipped off the light and made his way to the mirror. He popped a LifeSaver into his mouth and began crunching furiously, certain sparks would be visible any moment. No sparks.

"Shit!", Frank exclaimed!

He put another mint into his mouth and crunched again. Again there were no sparks.

"Goddammit! What's wrong here?!"

Frank tried again. Again he saw nothing.

"Shit! Shit! Why in the fuck isn't this working!"

One last time Frank tried to see the sparks. One last time he saw nothing.

"FUUUCK! Goddammit to holy hell!"

And just then Frank realized that he wasn't crunching Wint-O-Green LifeSavers at all but instead was trying to make sparks with sugar-free wintergreen flavored Breath Savers, which don't make sparks.

"Oh Jesus!", he muttered angrily and he stomped to the men's room door and flung it open.

And just as he was about to leave he heard a timid voice from one of the stalls asking "Uhhh, could you please turn the light on again?".

When Jake won't Google

That, darling Jacob, is eyelash yarn. And it is often, but not exclusively, used to make scarves like this:



or this:



Dang boys don't know anything.

Assure me that this is okay

That buying eight 50 gram skeins of slate blue eyelash yarn was an okay thing to do. That buying more freaking yarn when I can't even get the time to finish the four projects I currently have on needles was okay.

No? You mean this may not have been a good idea?

Did I mention that I got the eight 50 gram skeins for 1€?

Ha! Thought that might change your tune.

Now someone please assure me that I will come up with something to knit with all this slate blue eyelash yarn...

I shall not be dissuaded

I'm moving. This means, of course, packing. And to do this effectively I need to sort through and throw out stuff I am not planning on moving with me. The idea is to get rid of stuff so I don't have too much to pack.

It's simple. Get rid of stuff so I carry less stuff with me. It's practically become my new mantra.

And yet I'm practically giddy over the idea of going on Wednesday afternoon to a local home furnishings store because I saw in their sales circular for this week a collection of Santa Clauses that I simply must have. Oh yeah, I'm going to look for new lamps and a new sofa while I'm there but that's definitely secondary activity compared to me adding groovy new Santas to my beloved collection. I don't even know where I'm going to display them but screw it - I'm buying them. The rest is merely a minor detail.

And if it gets a little cramped in the boxes then I'll just have to throw some more stuff out. Like...oh...I dunno. Some PC games of B's.

Shhhhh! He'll never miss 'em.

Friday Shuffle - Big Hair Edition

In honor of today's telling of the big hair story below, this shuffle comes from my hair, glam and glitter band folder.

1. Metal Guru - T. Rex
2. Heaven's on Fire - KISS
3. Straight for the Heart - Whitesnake
4. It's My Life - Bon Jovi
5. I Wanna Rock - Twisted Sister
6. Far Far Away - Slade
7. Smokin' in the Boys Room - Mötley Crüe
8. Solid Gold Easy Action - T.Rex
9. Every Rose Has Its Thorn - Poison
   
10. Rock of Ages - Def Leppard

Just typing that made my hair foofier and makes me crave a sloe gin fizz.

Me, big hair, Frank and a plastic coat hanger or...

...why horseplay at work is expressly forbidden and says so in the company safety manual.

I have a big head. There's no escaping it. There's no playing it down. It's not like having a big butt. You can maybe fool yourself into thinking your butt really isn't so big but with a big head, you can't be in denial and everyone knows you've got one big ass head on your shoulders.

And I'm okay with that. I tell myself that having a big head is good and is necessary to hold my ginormous brain. *snicker*

Now couple my giant Celtic melon of a head and hair from 1991. Big head, bigger hair to cover that big head. My hair was permed, teased, fluffed and sprayed into ozone depleting order with a can of Aqua Net being used up every three days. Loni Anderson in her heyday didn't have hair as helmet-like as mine. In a word it was "foofy". See, Barefoot? Told you foofy wasn't too far from wrong.

At that time I worked in customer service for a power company. Across the aisle from my cubicle was a guy named Frank and he was one of my favorite people. He looked uptight and rigid on the outside but inside was one of the funniest people I've ever known. He could make me crack up at the drop of a hat and it was his mission in life to drop that hat as often as possible.

Frank was fascinated with my big hair. Fascinated how I could get it fluffed and sprayed into dramatic heights and he often claimed that I must be stowing a cat up there. Few things would make him roll is eyes faster than me fussing over my hair.

One afternoon when business was a bit slow Frank took on the notion to crack me up while I spoke with customers. I was in conversation with a customer when I heard a "Psst! Kim! Kimberley!". I looked over to see Frank pulling a plastic coat hanger over his head and back off again while he whispered to me "Bet you can't do this!".

Not one to back down from a dare, I finished my phone call, put my phone on stand-by, rolled my chair over to his cubicle and grabbed the hanger from his hand. I figured it was going to be a tight fit but I was up for the challenge. I was going to not only get that coat hanger over my head and back off but get it around my giant hair without getting one strand out of place.

I sized up the hanger, got a mental picture of my head, gave the hanger a bit of a tug at the bottom and began to slip it over my head. Slowly, slowly I eased it down, avoiding my hair in the process. "Hey!", I thought to myself, "This is easier than I thought it would be!".

Snap! At the moment that the hanger was clearing my forehead the bottom part of the hanger broke in half and in doing so slammed me right square on my left temple.

Ever faint? Ever nearly pass out? Ever know you're losing it and are helpless to gain control of yourself? It wasn't the pain that was concerning me - it was the fact that not only could I see stars but everything around me began to become blurry and it felt as if I were falling down a well.

"Kimberley! Kimberley!" I could hear Frank's frantic whispering of my name but I didn't know what it really meant. Answering him seemed logical but I didn't know how to do it. I wasn't even sure how my mouth worked or if I knew what words were. All I knew was sound was becoming more distant, the desk and computer I was staring at began to swim before my eyes and I felt like I was on a very small boat in very rough sea.

And then as suddenly as it came everything snapped back into order. Voices became normal and objects around me righted themselves and I became aware that I was staring straight ahead with my mouth gapped open as I held a broken plastic coat hanger around my head.

Suddenly the absurdness of the situation dawned on me and I began to laugh. I heard a wooshing sigh of relief from Frank and he began to laugh as well saying "God, I was about to piss my pants laughing but I didn't dare because I thought you were going to keel over and I was going to have to explain to the safety department why you were unconscious in my cubicle with my coat hanger around your head!".

About a year later I was attending Frank's wedding. It was a lovely day and as the ship were his reception was being held sailed down the Potomac I had complete strangers introduce themselves to me and then add "You're the one who nearly knocked herself out by pulling Frank's coat hanger over your head, aren't you? Hey, your hair really is big!".

Nothing like being infamous. And having indestructable hair.

Twenty random things

Mikki has tagged me and I shall be her obedient follower. Haven't read her blog yet? Oh honey! You don't know what you're missing! Get over there and revel in it's wonderfulness!

Twenty random things about me:

1. I detest esclators and will avoid them unless I have no other choice.
2. If I hear the song "Baby Mine" from Dumbo it's for certain that I will be sobbing within seconds.
3. I evidently have some serious issues with mother/child separation.
4. I find martini glasses to be fabulous and dammit they're not just for martinis anymore!
5. I am fascinated by miniatures and I collect and display them even if it is kitschy.
   
6. I love the preparation and anticipation of Christmas so much that I don't really like the actual day.
7. I wish I had all the clothes that Grace Kelly wore in Rear Window.
8. Interesting photo frames are irresistable to me.
9. If I had to pick another year of my birth I'd pick 1922.
10. Except that Great Depression part would probably suck.
11. By the time I was seven years old I swam in competition but couldn't ride a bike without training wheels.
12. When I first moved to Germany I was so homesick I cried every night for three weeks.
13. Riding in a car puts me to sleep.
14. Of course it's a thrill a minute when I'm the one driving.
15. I failed my driver's test twice before finally passing.
16. Sleep had nothing to do with the prior failures.
17. Men wearing bow ties creep me out.
18. I want a charm bracelet.
19. I once nearly knocked myself out by hitting my temple with a plastic coat hanger that broke as I was pulling it over my head.
    
20. I'll tell that goofy ass coat hanger story upon request.

Time for a tagging. Brandi (it ain't a meme unless I've tagged Brandi), Sari, Katya...you're up!

Hopeless case

You know you're full of shit when the person from the handicap advocacy agency you bring with you to help plead your case when you're on the verge of a eviction notice gets irked with you, at one point tells you to stop blaming the illness for your deeds and after the meeting approaches the other party to ask if there's something their office can help with.

We have an appointment on Monday for them to come over and see B about a completely unrelated matter.

Golden October

Today was one of those wonderful days that makes people love October. The sun, even though it hangs lower in the horizon, still has its wonderful warmth and the sky is that brilliant, sharp blue that makes your throat close up a little just to look at it. The leaves are beginning their seasonal change and the air has the bit of crispness that reminds you that colder, bleaker days are soon to follow. People breathe deeper and relish their time outdoors before the winds of winter descend.

And days like today make me meloncholy. While I love their vitality they remind me of a time when their vitality was the only good thing going on in my life.

Twenty-five years ago I was a freshman in college. Looking back on it I should have realized I was destined to make a poor showing of things but I didn't even consider that I had another choice. Going to college was my only option and even though I had absolutely no idea what I wanted from a college education, no focus, no drive and no motivation, it was expected of me.

My first error was living at home and enrolling in a local university. My family was living in Virginia at that time and there was a university five miles from our house that happily accepted me. This seemed like the just right thing to do as I had a boyfriend that I didn't wish to leave behind and staying home to go to college seemed like the best alternative. Unfortunately our relationship was rocky and we were within weeks of breaking up.

I did everything that a college student shouldn't do. I signed up for classes not even knowing what to do with them. I scheduled classes at odd hours that left me with huge gaps of time that I would waste. I was too intimidated by everyone to even speak and I wouldn't even introduce myself to other people. I spent time on campus only long enough to go to class and I never figured out how things operated. I didn't even know how a professor's office hours worked.

I was so completely clueless as to what I was doing that I couldn't make anything go right. I could understand what the instructors were telling me but I didn't know what to do with the information. I had no idea how to study. I couldn't even figure out how to ask someone to help me.

My personal life was in a shambles. I only wanted to spend time with my boyfriend but I was smothering him. I'd shut out old friends and didn't know how to reconnect with them. My parents were too controlling and I couldn't figure out how to assert myself. And over it all was a tragic event involving my closest friend - something so horrific that I virtually never speak of the event to anyone and even now often make a conscious effort to not even think of it. I was so utterly smothered in grief that it didn't even seem recognizable as grief. It was as though every lucid thought I could form was robbed from me and nothing I could say made any sense to anyone but me.

By the time October rolled around I was merely going through the motions of attending college. I'd go to class but had no interested in it. I began skipping class here and there - it didn't seem like much at the time. It finally got to the point where I'd show up for my 8am Anthropology class - a class that I still have no idea why I took it - and then find myself ditching the rest of the day.

Going home wasn't an option as I was still living with my parents. Staying on campus wasn't either - if I was going to be there I may as well go to class. Going to the mall wasn't suitable. I didn't want to be around the noise and the people milling around. So I'd get in the car and just drive.

My first driving escapes kept me in the general area around my home. Or I'd drive by my boyfriend's house to see if he was home even though I knew he wasn't. And then I got comfortable with my driving escape. My trips went out into the country farther and farther until it finally became a routine.

I'd start out driving west on Route 50. I'd get to just before Middleburg and then turn off Route 50 onto a road that I knew would eventually connect to Route 7. That area is horse country and I'd pass farms with low stone walls bordering the road and see in the meadows beautiful horses grazing. I'd pass humble homes of people who probably worked on those horse farms. I'd drive by Philomont and pass through Bluemont and wonder about the ancient black man who would wave at me each time I passed his weathered home.

The road would wind higher and higher up the foothills and as I listened to Van Halen and REO Speedwagon and Bruce Springsteen on the radio, the sun would flicker through the leaves of massive, ancient trees lining the road and I'd begin to anticipate the high point of the drive.

Just before the intersection with Route 7 the road made a hairpin turn - it has a posted speed of 15mph but as my drives became more frequent I began to challenge myself to take it as faster and faster speeds - and as one comes out of the turn one can look down over the valley below. Rust and gold colored leaves lay below like a speckled carpet and it never failed to make me gasp and then smile.

I'd make the drive back home down Route 7. I began to look forward to driving through Lovettsville - still a sleepy town back then with its neat homes and small businesses. It reminded me of my hometown in Mississippi and there was one large white victorian house with a glorious maple tree in the front yard that had leaves of such brilliant color it seemed to nearly vibrate. I'd continue on to Leesburg and made a point to drive through the town itself instead of staying on the bypass. I'd sometimes stop while in Leesburg to get some lunch or do some shopping, else I'd continue on until I reached Route 28 and then on again to Route 50 and back home.

I never told anyone about my drives. I'd tell everyone that I'd been in class all day and the lie would slip easily from my lips. Of course in a couple months my grades would tell another story but I still never told anyone about my drives that eventually became as frequent as three times a week until late November stole the remaining autumn leaves and the trees became unfriendly and uninviting.

I wasted so much time. So many hours spent doing nothing but driving. Money wasted on classes I wouldn't attend and books I would seldom open. Opportunity squandered and an education lost. I'll never get those hours back and I'll not have another opportunity to go to college. Oh I did eventually transfer to another university and I did better but I never finished. Years of my life where I didn't get anywhere.

But it was a time when I began to listen to myself. When I began to start feeling comfortable with myself. It was a process that went on for another fifteen years but it was the beginning. On those drives that lasted hours the seed was planted. I started to get an inkling of the idea that I will never know others and they will never know me until I begin to know myself. I would drive and think and sing loudly. I would cry over my losses and I would remember happier days. I would grieve and I would feel my heart ache and I would think that I would never have the pain leave me. And I would sometimes finally have my mind cleared of all thought even if it was for only a few fleeting moments.

Whenever I see a tree filled with brilliant yellow leaves it nearly always makes me cry for that poor bewildered girl in a Ford Fiesta who tried to drive herself into some clarity.

My pledge to you

When I get this whole moving shit finished I shall no longer plague you loyal readers about either moving stuff or any futher crap about the Loud family. Because honest to God I'm sick to death of both of them ruling my life.

The moving thing - that's at least something that's going to have a positive outcome but I'm tired of the poisoned mood I get into anytime I think of those sorry excuses for humans living above me. I'm tired of being constantly irked and annoyed and having them invading my thoughts.

They shall be banned from my mind. Unless, of course, I see him downtown doing something particularly heinous. Like once again picking his nose and transferring it to his mouth. I'm juvenile enough to report that back to you.

Well that was easy

We're taking the apartment at 115 on the 2nd floor. The apartment at 121, 6th floor has doorframes, stinks like cigarette smoke (and for my smokes-like-a-chimney MIL to notice it it must be bad), for some reason has a grungy look to it (115 is absolutely sparkling clean) and the view isn't so great after all.

My MIL took our quit notice for our current apartment to the rental company and the lady there - the one we've been dealing through with the problem with the Louds - nearly started to cry when she found out we're moving. She also literally begged for me and my MIL to come to her office on Thursday to meet with her and the Loud family and the lady on the 4th floor. My MIL told her that we don't have any real interest in what they do since we're leaving but the lady from the rental office wanted us for our input to help support the claims that have been made to the Louds so we said we'd do it.

The Louds were given written notice that if they don't stop the noise immediately then the rental company will start eviction proceedings and Frau Loud called right away to scream about it so that's why this meeting has been called. I have no idea what is supposed to come from it. How many ways do these people have to be told to stop their shit? I've told them in person to stop. So has the lady on the 4th floor. What is us meeting all together going to help? At this point I've consented to attend just to see first hand what will go on and to have more blog fodder.

Watch this space.

Because then life would be too neat and easy

That's the reason we can't get every single thing settled with this moving thing once and for all. Hell's bells, I'm just having too much fun with constantly speculating about things.

Still, some things are being put into motion. I sign the rental agreement on October 18 and pick up the key on October 19 and Wolfgang will paint the apartment on October 22. And today the lady from the moving company came by to see what things we have to move so she can give us a price. As it is she figures it'll come in at around 1000 € but any parts they have to have to make the kitchen right will be extra. I had a mental estimation of three times that amount so I was pleased with the offer.

I've also put to bed my anxiety about the kitchen. Moving Company Lady said that she will have her carpenter come see the kitchen as it is now, will come to the new place for him to measure things and see what can go where and then he'll conform things so that the new kitchen will seem as though what in it was custom made for it - or as close as they can get. I asked repeatedly, 'cause I'm annoying like that, if the kitchen will look good again and she assured me each time that it would. So I'm getting this kitchen worry off my back and am now going to focus on my new indecision.

Now we don't know which apartment to take. We had settled on 115, 2nd floor. A great apartment with a good view and in a good location 200 yards from the market square that we would be very happy in. Then on Friday B found on the rental company's website a newly available apartment at 121. Same street, just the next building over. This one would get me about 50 yards closer to the market square and this is on the 6th floor. Likely a better view than we'd get in 115. Problem is we're not 100% sure that B can get his wheelchair in 121 - some of the apartments have frames inside the doors that would cut down on the accessability - the apartment at 115 has no such frames. My MIL is finding out tomorrow if 121 has door frames and if it doesn't we have to decide right away which one we'll take. We've talked about it all weekend and I even went downtown yesterday afternoon to take pictures of the outside of both so B could see what sort of view we'd have and honestly it seems to have muddled up more than it cleared up. Right now we don't know whether to shit or go blind.

Could be a crucial decision with a lot hinging on it. A lot has to be taken into consideration. We need to try to make this as foolproof as possible. To that end I've been thinking about it all day and I've come to this conclusion:

Heads we take the apartment at 115. Tails we take the one at 121.

Oh hell. I ain't doin' nothing else better.

A meme I swiped from Holley to keep me busy while my anti-virus runs.

What color is most reflective of you?
Blue

How did you get the idea for your journal/blog name?
Struck me like a bolt out of the blue.

What time were you born?
Straight up noon.

What song are you playing now (or wish you were playing)?
I'm watching the German national soccer team play Turkey. Perhaps in keeping with the theme I should wish I was playing Deutschland by Die Prinzen.

Has the death of a celebrity ever made you cry?
When John Lennon was murdered I cried myself sick.

What color underwear (or underoos, as I prefer) are you wearing?
If it's Saturday, I must be wearing my Wonder Woman panties.

Do you want a baby?
Why? Has one been asking for me?

What does your dad do for a living?
He was retired from the Navy and then he worked as an engineer for various oceanographic engineering firms contracted to the Navy.

What does your mom do for a living?
She is a retired telephone operator.

What is your pet’s name?
Bonnie

What color are your bedsheets?
Blue and white plaid

What are the last 3 digits of your phone number?
712

What was the last concert you attended?
Blackmore's Night

Who was with you?
My husband.

What was the last movie you saw?
In a theater? Alfie

Who do you dislike most at this moment?
The German national soccer team because they're currently losing to Turkey, for fuck's sake!

Did you dream last night?
Yes. Something to do with...uhh...something.

What was the last TV show you watched?
Deadwood if you don't include this piss poor excuse for a soccer game. Stupid German national team.

What is your fave piece of jewelery?
Diamond wedding band.

What is to the left of you?
My bed.

What is the last thing you ate?
Schnitzel and potato salad.

Write a song lyric that’s in your head:
I have not one song lyric in my head at this moment.

Who last IMed you?
I think it was Lisa. Not sure because I seldom IM.

Where is your significant other right now?
Where he always is. Not like he's gonna get up and wonder off.

Do you have a crush?
No, but you've succeeded in putting the lyrics to Orange Crush into my head.

What shampoo do you use?
Fructis Silk and Shine

When was the last time you cut your hair?
Hmmm. I guess about ten years ago when I trimmed my bangs with nail scissors. My hairdresser, however, cut it on September 21.

What shirt are you wearing?
Sky blue 3/4 sleeve cotton t-shirt.

What is your favorite frozen treat?
Chocolate almond ice cream.

Are you sexy?
Outrageously so to the point of being virtually impossible to fathom.

What’s your favorite shopping store?
I have to chime in with Holley here and ask if Amazon counts.

Can you imagine yourself ever getting married?
What? Again?

Neatening up the frayed stuff

Let's just tidy up any loose ends I may have out there, shall we?

1. Basement fire from a month ago? We got our insurance settlement - a little over 1200 € that will come in handy for moving expenses. Nice this is that what things of mine that I had ruined by smoke and fire are probably things I would have chucked when I move.

2. Unknown gyn appointment? Bitty scrap of paper found. It's next week. And not even on Friday.

3. Annoying Friday appointment with moving company? My MIL, ever quick on the uptake, called them and changed the appointment to Monday. My Friday stayed on schedule and I have a couple days to straighten out some things before some lady from the moving company starts poking through my stuff in an attempt to not only see what I have to move but to satsify general nosiness.

4. Cranky ass gallbladder? Tamed once again, thankfully, as I do not currently have time for surgery.

5. Longed for Chapstick? Found. Bottom of black canvas Fossil bag where, I do believe, I also once misplaced my passport. In future I shall check there first for missing items. Perhaps if I dig deep enough I'll find Judge Crater and Jimmy Hoffa tucked in the corner surrounded by tattered Kleenex and a few loose TicTacs.

Friday Shuffle - No Edition Edition

No special folder, no theme - just general shuffly goodness.

You know the drill. Switch on that music maker. Press shuffle. Give the first ten it coughs up.

1. Girl All the Bad Guys Want - Bowling for Soup
2. Hannah Jane - Hootie & The Blowfish
3. Forca - Nelly Furtado
4. I Don't Mind - Buzzcocks
5. Love Comes in Spurts - Richard Hell
6. All Over You - Live
7. You Belong to Me Now - Candy Butchers
8. Angels - The BoDeans
9. Southern Cross - Crosby, Stills & Nash
10. Van Lear Rose - Loretta Lynn

I know Poppy's having some drooly daydreams about the Buzzcocks and Richard Hell in a tag team match against Hootie and Live.

Fifty dollars

That's what I'd give for a tube of Chapstick right now.

For Mikki

Twenty-two year ago my husband had a swimming accident - swimming wasn't actually involved, just a swimming pool. He was twenty-four years old and was in the East German army, quite against his will but since when did the East German government give a damn about the will of its people?

Side note: There's a movie out here now called NVA about draftees in the East German army in the 70s and a scene shows the draftees taking their oath and one after the other puts his hand behind his back and crosses his fingers. B saw this in the commerical for the film and said "I did the exact same thing!".

Anyway, long story short while in the army B fell into a pool into about 3 feet of water, landed on his head, his spinal cord became pinched and damaged and he's now a quadriplegic. He has no use of his legs or hands and only very limited use of his right arm.

Mikki also has a spinal cord injury and she writes about her life in a poetic way. A few months ago she wrote about what she'd do the day before "after"...the "after" being her life after her accident that caused her injury. I told Mikki that I was intrigued by this and I wanted to ask B the same...what would he have done with his day before "after". I finally got a moment where we weren't obsessing over moving and I asked him and the conversation went like this.

Me: Mikki wrote about what she'd do with her day before "after".

B: After her acccident, right?

Me: Right. So let's say you weren't in the army. What would you do with your day before "after"?

B: I'd have lots and lots and lots and lots of sex.

Me: (slightly disappointed because this wasn't the profound or touching answer I thought I might get) That's it? Just lots and lots and lots of sex?

B: Yeah. That's it. And dancing. I'd dance. I loved to dance.

Me: Sex and dancing. That's it?

B: Yeah. The rest I could do now.

Me: No you can't. Plus you have sex now.

B: Yeah, but I mean that sex where I can do anything. Acrobatic sex.

Me: Okay. Sounds reasonable. How about playing soccer?

B: Hmmm...no.

Me: Walk on the beach?

B: Nah.

Me: Just sex and dancing. Well. Okay. How about cooking? Would you cook?

B: No. No work. Just fun. (B had been a chef before going into the army).

Me: What about fishing? Would you go fishing? What about swimming?

B: (giving me that "Now think about what you just said." look) Uh, no. The swimming comes soon enough. And the fishing came when they fished me out of the pool.

Me: Lots and lots and lots of sex doesn't seem like enough.

B: Hey. I'd be planning on having sex for about ten hours straight. Then go dancing.

Me: That's assuming you could still walk. You sure that's all?

B: A bath. I'd like a bath in a really deep bathtub. Lots of suds. A really long bath.

Me: After ten hours of sex you'd probably need it.

B: Then I'd go dancing.

Me: What about riding a bicycle?

B: Nope.

Me: Driving! What about driving?

B: Yeah!! Driving! I loved to drive. And I'd drive really, really, really fast. I mean when it's the day before "after", who cares if they took away my driver's license?

So there you have it, Mikki. On B's day before "after" he have lots and lots and lots of sex, dancing and driving.

Just like a guy, eh?

Careening

Fasten your seatbelts, we're gonna be hitting the highlights and we're going to be going fast so keep your hands inside the car until we come to a complete stop.

1. Sick yesterday. Sick, sick, sick. Ohdearlord, it was that sort of sick that made you wish you'd just go ahead and die but you know you're not going to be that lucky and you're going to have to keep suffering until it's over. Started about a half hour after lunch, eased after a few sessions of V & D (get out your secret decoder rings if you don't understand that), revved up again after eating supper, eased off once more after a bit more V and a nap. Tummy bug? Could be, but my money is on my cranky ass gallbladder. The one I was suppsed to get removed a couple years ago but I opted to have my ovaries removed instead. Not that I mean ovary removal was interchangable with gallbladder removal - I'm just saying problems with both occured at approximately the same time. Actually the ovary problem was discovered during the diagnosis of the gallbladder problem. Okay, whatever - let's leave my now non-exsistant ovaries out of this. This is about my wonky gut, dammit!

2. Thank God and all His chubby little angels above. B's wheelchair fits in the new apartment. We went down there today (and thank you again, God, for not letting it rain while he was out) and he came off the elevator, turned on a dime and whipped right into the apartment. And after a week of anxiety over it he didn't even have the common decency to make it look even sort of hard. Damn show off.

Now he's obsessing about which room he wants to have as the main livingroom. Closets are virtually non-exsistant in Germany so you can choose what rooms you wish to be livingrooms or bedrooms. I think he's going to pick the room with the balcony as he's going to be in that room all the time and the balcony makes the room seem larger.

3. We've pretty well settled on us taking the new place as of November 1, moving on November 16 and vacating this pit of hell as of November 30. If I could only leave to new potential renters secret, subliminal messages that say "Don't take this apartment! A loud, obnoxious, hateful, anti-social dickhead lives above! You'll be awakened every time he goes to take a crap!", I would. Save some other poor person the frustration of living below that hellish man.

4. The moving company has been called and they're coming over on Friday afternoon at 4pm to talk about what they'll need to do, get an idea of what needs to be moved, etc. so they can give us a price. This is a good thing except for it being on Friday. I specifically told my MIL not to make the appointment with the moving company for this week and I've told her a thousand times to not ever make appointments for me for Fridays. Fridays are the day when I am my busiest. I do my shopping that day. B ususally doesn't feel so great on Fridays due to some medicine he takes on Thursdays. Just bathing him and washing his hair that day takes me hours and I can't be flexible with that. I thought I had over the years made it abundently clear that nothing short of the second coming of Christ had better claim my time on Fridays but evidently my MIL didn't get the memo.

5. Got home in time for the delivery service to bring me four long sleeved t-shirts I ordered last week. All are v-necked, two have lace around the neck - one in red and one in Granny Smith apple green - and two have little flowers embroidered around the neckline - one is white and one is pink. Yes, I order clothes I like in different colors. Dorky, yes - but I at home most of the time anyway. It's not like I'm showing up at an office for people to look at my clothes and whisper to each other "Doesn't she have that same blouse in blue?". Folks, be glad I have branched out into wearing clothes in colors as daring as red and Granny Smith apple green. There was a time after I turned 35 when my wardrobe consisted of only blue, black, white and beige clothes.

6. You know, I have a gyn appointment for this month (back to my ovaries again...how very circle of life, uh...so to speak) and I have no freaking idea where the bitty slip of paper that has the appointment on it is. Would not surprise me in the least to find out the appointment is on a Friday. I'll even bet that it's this Friday.

A quandry

Is it worse to not update a blog even when you have nothing in particular currently going on or is it worse to just pop in and write something along the order of "This weekend was quiet. I did laundry, watched soccer, cooked, knitted, watched movies and obsessed once more about how much of my kitchen I can get into the new apartment and which pieces, if necessary, could be sacrificed."?

Ooops. Too late.