Monthly Archives: September 2013

It’s time to get excited! …. Maybe

“So, are you excited about next weekend?”

It was a Friday afternoon and far too early to be thinking of this weekend, let alone next weekend. The immediate problem facing her was whether or not there was enough hot sauce on her burrito and whether she could add more without it dripping down her fingers. Somehow hot sauce always found its way from her fingers to her eyes or up her nose with very little effort on her part.

Hey. Earth to Keira. Next weekend. Are you excited?”

She finally looked-up, still distracted by her burrito, “What do you mean?”

“Uh. Saturday.  Are you looking forward to next Saturday?”

“…Yes. Maybe. I don’t know? Why?”

“Weeeelll, it’s Saturday. The twenty-eighth. Remember?”

“Um…” She thought. He had said it like she should already know, like that they had talked about it at length. What had she agreed to do on the twenty-eighth? There were no races, or conventions, or parties. She was fairly certain they weren’t going to a football game. Was there a family event? Was it someone’s birthday? Were they going out of town? She really hoped she hadn’t agreed to go the damn aquarium again, as she was only interested in the cephalopods and sharks. She wanted to pick up her phone to check her calendar but then he would know she had forgotten.

It was too late. She knew that he knew that she didn’t know.  She could see it in his face and he was far too smug and gleeful about his knowledge. It made her want to blow raspberries at him. She didn’t, but only because that would mean he had won and she wasn’t ready to concede.

Then it clicked.

“OH!” She jumped in her chair and nearly dropped her burrito, “OH!!! It’s our anniversary! “

“Yep. Five years.”  He grinned and raised his hand to high-five her.

“Wait. Is our anniversary the twenty-eighth?”

“….I think so?” He didn’t sound nearly as confident anymore. His hand started to lower.  The smugness was gone.

“Are you sure? Did we ever figure it out for certain? It might be the twenty-seventh.” She paused and thought some more, “Or maybe the twenty-ninth.”

“Shit. I don’t know.”

“It’s definitely one of those days, right?”

“Um. Maybe.”

They sat there a moment, trying to decide if they should call a more responsible relative or friend to discreetly ask about their wedding date. Or, they could dig out their important document folder that contained their marriage certificate…but that folder was buried somewhere in a box in the back of a closet. Probably.

Finally she said, “Do you want to just say our anniversary is the twenty-eighth?”

“Yeah” He nodded definitively, “That’s way easier.”

That detail decided, she finally added more hot sauce to her burrito and then leaned over the table to kiss him.

“Happy early anniversary to us. I am very excited. She paused and then added, “You have cheese in your beard.”

P.S. I checked a calendar from 2008. I’m nearly positive that we were married on Sep 27th 2008 ..but since Kyle and I are so awesome and also so bad at remembering, I think it’s okay to celebrate both days.

 

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Adventures in Home Ownership

Some of you know that Kyle and I bought a house about a year ago and  since we’ve bought the house, I’ve been wanting to rip up the carpet. I was fairly certain there was decent hardwood underneath.  I had peeled up the carpet near the vents but I couldn’t get a really good look at the floor without damaging the carpet.  Naturally, I wanted to start tearing it out immediately. Kyle didn’t think that was a good idea. It’s usually a sign that something’s a bad idea if Kyle’s the one putting the brakes on. So, for an entire year, I’ve been very patiently and very quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) hating the carpet.

Kyle was putting it off because he thought he was going to have to do most of the work.  It’s not an unreasonable worry. The man has a lot of construction experience and he knows what kind of work this project entails. Also, he knows me and he knows sometimes when things get difficult I throw myself down on the floor or couch or whatever is nearest, claim my legs are broken, and refuse to move. And that maybe I’m also dying. And the only cure is for someone to bring me a Diet Coke. And red curry and/or possibly a burrito.

It’s just as charming as it sounds. I don’t blame him for wanting to put off the project.

However, the situation was quickly becoming untenable. One of the dogs is thirteen and semi-incontinent. The other is shedding so much I’m surprised he’s not completely bald yet.  It doesn’t matter how often I vacuum, shampoo and spot treat the carpet. I cannot keep it clean and really, I feel my energies are better spent elsewhere. (For instance, I’ve just discovered how much I love Portal. I also really like to sleep. ) Also, Kyle’s allergies are terrible this year and I doubt our dusty, dirty, furry carpet is helping the situation.
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Don’t let them fool you. Those sweet faces are hiding the carpet-destroying-monsters underneath.

Anyway, Kyle left for a football game with some friends to drink beer and cheer against my alma mater. I decided that was a legitimate reason to possibly cause major damage to our home. I grabbed the carpet near the stairs and started pulling.

Success!
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I don’t know what I would have done if it was terrible. Probably, I would have tucked the carpet back in and pretended that everything was normal. I’m really good at pretending everything is completely fine.   However, I got lucky. So, I grabbed a utility knife and started cutting.

And kept cutting.

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You see those dark spots on the left? That’s Bear’s handiwork. (Weiner-Work? Or maybe,  “My Crazy Brain Has Made Me Lose Control of My Bladder-Work” and possibly, “I’ve Forgotten That Outside Exists-Work” and “Hey, This Seems Like a Great Place To Pee-Work?”)

Anyway, Kyle came home, gazed upon my deeds, and declared it good. He was curious though what caused me to suddenly slice up our floor, so I told him that I had to make a tough decision between him, the dogs, and the carpet. One of them had to go. He understood and gave a surreptitious nod toward Buster. You know, because you can hurt a cocker spaniel’s feelings if you say mean things about him.

“Oh, hell no.”  I said, “You were a close second to the carpet.”

He decided that was reasonable and went to get me a cheeseburger. He also brought me a pry bar and showed me how to use it on the carpet tack.  I had been using a flat-head screw driver; it wasn’t nearly as efficient. Or fun. Seriously, get a pry bar and just start demolishing things. It’s fantastic.

Ummm. Make sure you own the things you demolish.

After I had eaten, Kyle gave me a brief construction lesson on how to lay the padding, how the tack works, and how to stretch/install the carpet. Then he left me alone to go watch more football. Good man. It’s not a good idea to mess with me and the pry bar.

I kept cutting.

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I’m mostly done. There’s still a few more places I haven’t gotten to yet. I haven’t moved the couch because I can’t do that on my own. I leg-pressed some of the furniture across the room but sadly, the couch is too big for that.

There’s also some damage to the hardwood floor but it’s nothing that’s unfixable. (I think. I still need to research more) Honestly, I hope I look this good when I’m 73. I like how it looks; it’s made the entire room more cheerful and warm and homey. It’s like honey in the sunshine.

Bear’s a fan too. I guess I can forgive him for staining my floors.

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There’s still a lot of work to do but I have claimed it as my project.

Considering how much I like to sleep and play video games, it’s going to be a good six months or so before anyone is allowed bare-footed in the house. Y’all have been warned. It’s not my fault if you get tetanus.

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