some housekeeping (and whatnot)

1. I decided to create one of those Life Lists all the kids have been talking about (you know, since like five years ago) but still haven't thought of 100 things. I'm filling it slowly. I'm up to 35, which is going to take me a year to fulfill just by itself, so I can't say I'm in a huge hurry to think of the next 65 things. I think I'm going to keep the list itself private, at least until it's all written, except for #35. I'm quite fond of #35.

Some of you may know how often I use FutureMe. I send my future self a letter on every birthday (well, except for last year, apparently) and randomly whenever I feel like it. It's kind of like getting a note from the past. Actually, it's not kind of like that at all, it's exactly like that. ANYWAY.

Number 35 on my Life List can be described thusly: I'm going to send myself a FutureMe letter every week for a year. Each letter will be set to be delivered a year from when it's sent. So next year, starting on June 12th, I'll start receiving a letter from the past once a week.

So that'll be fun! Or depressing. (Both?)



2. Update! The groundhogs are gone (relocated gone, not dead gone). Did I already tell you guys that? I was kind of sad for a couple of days because I missed watching them frolic through the yard. Oh well, there are always YouTube videos. Joe saw some chipmunks running under the shed the other day. I guess they heard there was a vacancy and a groundhog hole is probably like a mansion to a bunch of chipmunks, so they wasted no time. Chipmunks are bad for the foundation or whatever, much like groundhogs, but they will probably not claw Max's face off, so we're not too worried about them BECAUSE ALSO...

3. We're totally going to tear that shed down. I AM SO EXCITED TO USE A SLEDGEHAMMER. But first we have to remove the roof, and there might be wasps living in part of it, so we have to kill those first. I wish we didn't have to kill anything, even wasps, but they will not listen to my polite requests to "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, STINGING MACHINES AHHHHHHHHH," when I see them in the backyard, so killing it is.

4. The rest of the house is going to (hopefully) remain standing, so I hope it doesn't miss the shed. We're thinking of having a Demolition Party so we don't accidentally maim ourselves tearing the shed down on our own. It's BYOSledgehammer. Bring your friends.

5. You know what's crazy about having a house? You have to, like, take care of things yourself. Like, no one has taken it upon themselves to come water my flowers (only they're not MY flowers, I didn't plant them and so I feel no ownership over them) so some of them are dying. And there are some crazy plants growing that are also sort of dying, but I think that's OK because they might be weeds? I tried to go out one weekend and trim everything, because it looks a bit jungle-y in our garden, but there were bees and wasps all over and I think we've gone over how I feel about stinging things. You win this round, bees.

(OK, and all rounds.)

this post brought to you by TOO MUCH COFFEE

Whenever I'm watching TV or a movie, if one of the characters is lying in bed or waking up in bed or just anywhere near a bed, really, it makes me want to go to sleep. But not in my own bed, which is only half-assedly made most of the time (unless Joe does it) and is usually covered in all manner of dog and cat hair because our animals think that our stuff = their stuff, but in a TV-bed, a fluffy kingdom of sleepfoolery, full of giant pillows and a comforter I could bury myself in. The sheets are white and pure, like fresh snow but not cold like snow because what kind of weirdo wants to go to sleep in a pile of snow? Maybe vampires? Or Jack London, probably. But no one else.

Anyway, my point is, we got a new bed this weekend. We've been talking about getting a new one since we moved into the new place. And when I say we, I mostly mean me. And by me, I mean every time I had a shitty night of sleep WHICH IS ALMOST ALWAYS, I'd complain about how we needed a new bed frame. Because the one we had felt like it was going to collapse any time one of us moved. It got to the point where I'd cringe whenever Max jumped on the bed and he weighs like 5 pounds. Plus 25 more pounds. Whatever.

So this weekend we rented a truck and drove to IKEA to pick up a shitload of boxes that would soon become furniture. We got all the right ones this time. Did I tell you guys that when we bought our dining room table at IKEA we brought home two boxes and only one of them was the right one? True story. It was really disappointing. That didn't happen this time. Good story, Jennie, tell it again.

A couple of people have asked me how my Easter was and I have stared at each one of them, dumbfounded (which, to be fair, is my default reaction to human interaction most of the time). The closest we came to talking about Easter this weekend was when we drove by the resurrection-in-process Come Unto Me Jesus (formally Terminator Jesus AND formally Touchdown Jesus) on the way home from IKEA. This weekend was not so much about Easter for us as it was constructing a beautiful, happy place that looks like this:

I want to go to there.

Don't you want to sleep there? Well, you can't. SORRY.

DO YOU WANT TO HEAR SOMETHING CRAZY? (Note: it's not actually that crazy.) We put the bed together yesterday so last night was our first night to sleep in it. And even though Max did not jump on the bed at all like he normally does after we fall to sleep and therefore can't chase him off (choosing, instead, to curl up in a pile of dirty laundry), I still slept like crap! I'm blaming it on two things: 1) it was a Sunday night and I always sleep poorly on Sunday nights because of all the Monday-morning-dread and 2) I was playing Draw Something before I went to sleep and cracked myself up with the completely idiotic and inappropriate drawing I made for Joe. Then Phoebe threw up on the floor, right by my side of the bed, and I thought about ignoring it until the morning but then I pictured my foot coming down on a pile of cat barf in a middle-of-the-night bathroom trip and I decided to clean it up, which meant running downstairs then upstairs then downstairs then upstairs and by that time I was SO AWAKE so I tried to relax by repeating the following words to myself: GO TO SLEEP GO TO SLEEP IT'S ALMOST MIDNIGHT YOU NEED TO GO TO SLEEP YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY TALK TO PEOPLE AT WORK IN THE MORNING AND NOT JUST SIT AT YOUR DESK AND STARE AT A COMPUTER SO GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW. This didn't really help. PLUS. I'd plugged in a new cat pheromone diffuser for Phoebe, which made her extra friendly. This was cute but also troublesome because when she's extra friendly she usually tries to make a bed on my boobs at 3 AM which is not, as those with boobs can attest, all that comfortable for the human in the situation. 

Really what I'm saying is that you should play Draw Something with me I AM OBSESSED.

Also, complete sidenote: I've been meaning to talk about this but I keep forgetting. I'm participating in Pajiba's Cannonball Read IV, meaning I'm reviewing all (or most) of the books I've been reading, and they're not like my Goodreads reviews, which are like, "I liked this book, it was good," but actual reviews with more than one paragraph. And sometimes GIFs. Anyway, here's a link to my reviews, if you're interested. Or even if you're not interested, honestly. Also! Even if you don't read my reviews (and comment! I'm a whore for comments!), please read the Junior Cannonballer reviews because YOU GUYS they are written by kids who love to read, so please read and comment on those if nothing else BECAUSE HOW CUTE IS THAT? MY OVARIES EXPLODED, THAT'S HOW CUTE IT IS.

Um, right, so here are the junior reviewer links:

Bunnybean
Joemyjoe
The Grace Hurricane

The end.

sliiiiide away

What's weird about being an adult is that sometimes you get excited about stupid things, like when your husband changes your windshield wipers for you. This was exciting for two reasons. One, I didn't have to do it. And two, I hadn't changed my windshield wipers in...I don't want to say YEARS but you guys it was totally years. Like...when did I get my car? 2008? Let us check the archives! Oh, no, I'm sorry, it was 2007. So, if we use math, we will discover that my windshield wipers were REALLY FUCKING OLD. I'm sure they weren't really THAT old, maybe? Like maybe I changed them at some point and forgot? But still. I fail. I fail at life and stuff.

What's also weird about being an adult is that sometimes you get excited about willingly putting yourself in a great deal of debt for the next 80 bajillion years. What's also also weird is that someone will let you buy a house even though you routinely stay up too late on school work nights watching zombie shows and don't shower on the weekends until at least 3 o'clock in the afternoon.

My point is, a lot of things are weird so get over it. Sorry, that was mean. And that wasn't even my point because OBVIOUSLY I DON'T HAVE ONE WHAT ARE YOU, NEW? Well? Are you? If you're new, how are you even reading this because you are obviously a baby and babies can't read until they are really old babies so what's up with that, are you a really old baby?

Is anyone even still reading this? I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. Anyway. We closed on our house on Friday, which I think means that it is closed all over the place, man, there are no open windows or doors or anything in that damn house. It also means that the next two weeks aren't going to be very much fun unless you like having to pack and paint and clean more than watching reruns of Mad Men and if that's the case, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

I'm sorry, I'm being really combative today and I have no idea why. Whatever. The closing was odd because the sellers were there and they seemed really nice but it was kind of weird because, like, we're going to be living in their house. Which is now our house, but like, what if we find something weird in a hidden drawer in the basement, like a homemade sex tape or a box of blood slides? I don't want to have met these people face to face if we end up finding something like that. OH WELL, I guess.

I am going to miss our realtor. She's pretty much the nicest realtor ever so I'm thinking about maybe buying a second house so we can continue to hang out with her. She's THAT awesome. And she seemed to like us even though we looked at approximately 75 houses and I'm not even exaggerating, I think we really did look at 75 houses, AT LEAST. That's a lot of houses. But because I am me (who else would I be?), I felt like we had to look at every house we might possibly want because what if we didn't and THAT WAS THE HOUSE. And, you know? It's a good thing I spent so much time obsessively combing the internet for available houses because that's how we found the one we bought, I think. I don't know, I don't remember. Wow, good story, Jennie, TELL IT AGAIN.