Wedding Ring

My husband tried to lose his wedding ring this weekend. This happens to people fairly often, I'm sure, but it's an awful feeling. We were both trying to be brave and confident that it would turn up, but we weren't fooling anyone, I don't think. Neither of us take them off very often, so it was a mystery as to where it might have gone. Our place is old, and has all the little nooks and crannies you think are charming until you're on your hands and knees with a flashlight, peering at one hundred years worth of dirt and detritus under the radiators. All sorts of irrational thoughts went through my head. Are we still married? Did he lose it on purpose? Was it his subconscious way of throwing me out as well? I felt guilty about having these thoughts, and somewhat confused as well. How can a symbol like that come to mean so much? How would we activate our powers without our rings?

The story does have a happy ending, though. At first light the next morning, we went outside, and by some miracle we found it. There it was, lying on the lawn, right on top of a pile of dirt and leaves. No searching, no pawing through the brush. It was just there, waiting for us to find it. Maybe we had the powers all along, and really didn't need the rings. I'm glad to have it back, though, more than I can say.

"Wonder Twin powers, activate!"

Link, Link, Who's Got The Link?

Alex wants to add a link to me from his blog page. I'm not sure why. Maybe it makes him feel more important to have lots of links, like he has lots of friends. I'm probably going to let him, with a disclaimer or two. This page is not intended to be smart or informative. I'm not here to teach anyone anything. It is solely for my personal use as a place to complain. No one wants to listen to me complain anymore, so this seemed like a good idea. His blog, on the other hand, is smart and informative AND is used as a place to complain. Brilliant!

Halloween Horrors

I used to love dressing up as a kid, but somewhere along the line it just became a pain in the ass. I'm dressed up today, though, here at work. I guess you could say I'm a gypsy of some sort. My biggest problems are that Bernard, my life size skull, keeps rolling off the counter, and the chicken foot in my hair is itchy. I don't know which is worse - my lame costume, or the fact that I have a realistic skull hanging around the house.

The Fire Alarm Works

Since we moved, there has been a lack of major disasters to write about. I'm sure that will all even out some time. It's been nice. It's very quiet, at least in comparison to the previous place. Part of it is probably because we're sleeping on the top floor, so there are no windows on the sides, only the ends. So the party boys next door haven't really been bothering us. I'm knocking on every piece of wood near me, right now. We did have a little bit of an incident the other night. Somewhere around eleven the fire alarm started shrieking. Woke us right up, let me tell you! Turns out it was because the back up battery was running out. I guess that's why the little green light had been flashing for two weeks. Anyway, the ceilings are so high that our step ladder wouldn't reach. So, half asleep and confused, we climbed up onto the bureau to get it down. Probably not the smartest thing, but we do silly things when we're asleep.

We've Moved

I'm not saying every thing is properly placed. It isn't. Most things aren't out of boxes and those boxes are certainly not in the right rooms or anything, but everything we own is currently in one place. With us. Right there next to us. It kind of feels like camping right now. Oh, wait, everything except the couch. Didn't fit. Movers were great, and tried everything they could think of, but in the end they drove away with my couch, to put it in storage. At least it isn't in pieces. There's a nasty dent in the hallway, though. The Insufferable Horror appears to be over his "horrific incident of terror" involving the pet taxi, and is loving the place. He loves stairs of any kind. There is a landing at the top of the stairs to the second floor that looks down over the stairs. He likes to wait for us up there, peering over the edge. He gets nutty on the stairs. Rolling around with wild eyes and other strange behavior. It's much quieter here, so I think he feels safer. I know I do. Now if we can just find my shoes...

Disaster of the Day

On my way to work this morning, I stopped for coffee, like I often do. My car is not just a mode of transportation for me, it also transports an amazing array of crap. When I got into the car, I needed to place the coffee on the middle console so I could remove the two old cups from the cup holder. Part of my brain knew I was heading in the wrong direction, but it was early, and I ignored it. After removing the old cups, I didn't immediately put the new coffee in the holder. Instead, I took my purse off my lap and tried to put it on the seat next to me. Of course, the strap caught the new cup of coffee and sent it flying through the air, landing upside down on the floor, soaking my bag of books and knitting. I'm sure people in the parking lot wondered what the hell was going on when I shrieked at the top of my lungs and started flinging books and yarn around the car to get them out of the coffee. So I drove to work with the scent of coffee coming up from the steaming puddle on the floor, and no actual coffee to drink. I couldn't very well go back inside and tell them WHY I needed another coffee, could I?

We Signed the Lease

We handed a total stranger a check last night, and signed a lot of pieces of paper saying that we would agree to pay this stranger lots of money every month and we are assuming that they own the apartment we're going to try to move into next month. I say try, because I have serious doubts about our couch making it even halfway up the stairs. So, why did I give them money and agree to live there, possibly couch-less? I was tired. I am tired. I'm tired of looking. It's a nice place. It isn't perfect, but the hope is that it will be better than now. People have been getting furniture in there for years. Why shouldn't we be able to? Apparently you don't know me well. The most likely outcome will be that the couch will get stuck and it will have to be hacked out with an axe, eliminating the possibility of us selling it to someone with no stairs and big doors. Should I just sell it now?

Insufferable Horror

Today I have a rare Monday off from work. Of course, it's supposed to be 95 and humid, and we can only run one air conditioner in our sorry little apartment. If you have the AC on and the television at the same time, you'd better hope the fridge doesn't need to cycle on, because it makes the TV screen go black. Very disconcerting. So, it's either be cool or do laundry in sweltering conditions. My vote is to stay on the couch with my knitting and the AC. After all, you can't knit a wool sweater in July with out AC, and I have an obligation to the knitting, don't I? It's my first sweater attempt.

We went up to the lake yesterday for Mom's birthday. Perfect day for that - warm and sunny and the water was nice. We went a little later than usual to give the Massholes time to beat feet out of New Hampshire. We don't like strangers. Wait, we don't like most of the people we know either.

Speaking of which, the search for the perfect domicile for us is still underway. We're looking at one tonight that I know isn't going to be right. There's too much "community" going on there. "Common areas" give me hives. It has a common deck area which we would no doubt avoid like the plague, and only one washer/dryer for four units. Yeah, like that will work. The landlord lives there too, and says "oh, I just go up the street to the laundro-mat." Augh! The laundro-mat! A creepier place there never was! We have our own washer and dryer, and we're just looking for a nice, quiet place to hook them up and live quietly, keeping to ourselves. Is that wrong?

Oh, I was going to put a picture in of the Insufferable Horror, wasn't I? See how his eyes glow?