reading: The 37th Hour.
Finished reading yesterday: Never Threaten to Eat Your Co-Workers. Not a bad book, though I did find myself skipping some of the chapters (or whatever you want to term them). Far and away my favorite chapters were those done by Dooce, Ali Davis, Mrs. Kennedy, and Wil Wheaton.
* * *
Fred apparently had an epiphany yesterday. I got an email consisting of the following and nothing else:
To: Robyn
From: Fred
Subject: I’ve figured it out.
You know why Christians are always persecuted?
Because they’re so goddamn annoying.
* * *
From my comments:
Hey Robyn…totally off the subject but what kind of Dyson do you have. I’m interested in getting one and I’ve been checking them out online, but there’s a bunch of different ones. Also what do you use it for? Carpet or floors? I think I would use it mostly for carpet.
I have the
Dyson Animal – DC07. I still LOVE IT, by the way. There’s just nothing like vacuuming a room and watching the canister fill up with cat hair and dust and crap. I use it for both carpet and floors. There’s a switch so that you can turn the beater bar thingy (?) off while you’re vacuuming floors and then back on when you do carpets. My only gripe about the Dyson is that it doesn’t really reach all the way under my kitchen cabinets and so I have to get out the attachment (because dirt and crap likes to collect under there), but other than that? Love it!
* * *
A year and a day after she took and passed her learner’s permit test, the spud is now officially licensed:
It took about an hour of waiting around at the Department of Motor Vehicles in a jam-packed waiting room before they called her back, filled out a thousand forms, took five dollars, made me sign something, and then snapped her picture.
Last night I took my life in my hands and had her drive me to the post office to drop off some boxes. This was the first time I’d ever been in a vehicle with her behind the wheel, and I was a little worried, because Fred has told me some very scary stories about the spud behind the wheel.
But you know what? It was fine. She’s maybe a little hesitant to pull out when she should, and she has the tendency to slow down wayyy before she needs to, but those are things she’ll overcome in time. The streets of Madison have a lot of traffic and it can be a little scary sometimes – when I was learning to drive, I had the luxury of a lot of country roads to drive down with very little traffic. There’s really nothing like that here; there are plenty of country roads, but a lot of traffic going down them.
She’ll be fine.
* * *
Okay, this Terry Schiavo thing got me freaked out enough that I located an
Advance Directive form online, printed it out, and have started filling it out.
What startles me is that people are skeptical about Michael Schiavo’s claim that he and Terry had talked about it years ago, and she’d never want to be kept alive in a persistent vegetative state.
“Yeah, right,” people are saying. “I’m sure they talked about it alllll the time.”
Well, I hate to be a party pooper, but Fred and I have discussed that very thing many, many times. The first time was before we were even married, and we discuss it again every now and then. We’re both fully aware of each other’s wishes and prepared to carry them out should the occasion arise.
Which always leads to me joking that at some point in the future I’ll be in the hospital, and the nurse will say “Your wife is resting comfortably, Mr. And3rson” and Fred will bellow “Unplug her! Unplug her!” and the nurse will say “No, she’s just sleeping, Mr. And3rson!” and Fred will say “Unplug her! She’d never want to live like that!”
Okay, maybe it’s only funny to us.
My goal before next Friday is to get the Advance Directive form filled out, signed, and witnessed. I’m appointing Fred my health care proxy, and my sister the backup health care proxy (in case Fred and I are in a fiery car accident, or a safe falls on both our heads), because I know without a doubt that I can trust both of them to make the right decision and that they love me enough to make sure my wishes are carried out.
And now, because jokes can be made about ANYTHING (“Where did Krista McAuliffe go on vacation?” “All over Florida!”), there are jokes being made.
Some of them are FUCKING funny.
Fred sent me an email yesterday, saying:
Someone on Fark just commented that Terri Schiavo is like Michigan J. Frog in that she can sit up, speak, and react when her parents are there, but does absolutely nothing when anyone else is around.
Bless Terry Schiavo’s heart, but that is
funny.
And then today he wrote
this entry and I laughed so hard I almost shot Diet Coke out my nose.
I’m surprised he didn’t try to unplug me.
* * *
]]>