It's been a long day spent at consignment stores all over town--The Boy probably drove a good 50 miles in all (and he hates driving, but is totally in to fixing up the house). We didn't have much success, but ended up with nice bar chairs for our unused counter space. Okay, when I just said "unused counter space," I was totally lying. Right now it is used to store all manner of paper items. It is my hope, that if the bar chairs are sitting there, The Boy will not be as likely to dump various paper detritus on the counter. We are looking for a new kitchen table and chairs to go with it. I guess that will take longer to find.
Some of those consignment stores seemed to just be old Holiday Inn furniture and decoration. Anyone want an oil painting of a placid ocean scene? I can point you to a few stores for all your bland decorating needs. Beige is still as popular as ever, and I cannot help but find that disheartening. We were totally scared out of one place by overly eager owners. We were attacked with a barrage of southern accents and "Hi, ya'll! You ever been to our store before?" Why, is there something special about this store that I need to know? Because as far as I can tell, it's like a normal crowded consignment store where I see a bunch of shit I hate (mainly overly ornate, scarred, chunky wood furniture), and occasionally some item I may want to look at. There was even a customer who was just as enthusiastic saying it was the best store in town and she shops there always. Did they pay her money to act like that? We got out as fast as possible.
Before all our furniture-store browsing, we ate at the diner of constantly changing hours. Thankfully it was open and we were able to eat omelettes and hash browns. That is one way to get us in a good mood. Though, The Boy's hash browns had a piece of bacon on top of them. Most people would think of that as a friendly gesture, a nice gift. He was insulted. I took care of things by eating it, and he got over it enough to woof down those hash browns. Guess the bacon didn't taint his food with all its meatiness. I cannot imagine life as a vegetarian. I respect all who choose that path, and I wish I was stronger and could follow such an excellent example, but not to eat bacon, ham, steak? Oh, man, nu-uh.
While eating our breakfast, I took the time to admire our waitress' ass. It was very cute. It just looked really good in her pants. It was just a small, gently sloping ass. The Boy was not as impressed. He is very enamored with my own ass. I have no idea why, but he sure does like it. I know I should be very happy with this, but my logic just says, "seriously, it is big, my pants often look like I'm wearing a diaper under them. We deconstructed all aspects of my ass while polishing off breakfast. I do hope someone was listening in to us; you know, for good times.
Later, we got in a dumb fight in the middle of the livingroom section of IKEA. I was totally being melodramatic, but I was also right. Sometimes I have a hard time being nice when no one is acknowledging my complete rightness. The Boy was good and didn't get mad even though I was totally frustrated and being jerky. He is very kind like that. He acknowledges and accepts my craziness, more than I acknowledge and accept his slow thought processing and lack of common sense. I finally calmed down, and licked his forehead to show how I was no longer mad. He licked my cheek. We both had bad breath. The next time you find yourself in a retarded fight, and no you are a) right but b) wrong that you are trying to make a point of being right, just lick the person you are fighting with. It will all end well.
When we got home, The Boy took a quick drink of water and ran to the grocery store and I scrubbed down the whole bathroom. Leaving me exhausted, and almost (almost) unwilling to microwave Quorn chick'n nuggets. I finally got to it, and am having a rare beer to wash it down with.
The Boy is picking up all his papers in the kitchen, and then we will clean it like I cleaned the bathroom. This is all in effort to make our friends think good thoughts of us when they come over tomorrow for Urban Family Get Together/The Boy's 40th Belated Birthday Party. I just hope I am able to get out of bed tomorrow to attend. Maybe the guests will come visit me in bed, and bringing me tasty breakfast-for-dinner foodstuffs. Too bad I've already committed to making sticky cinnamon buns.
No comments:
Post a Comment