* * *
I am absolutely loving being in the Smallville house. I haven’t done much since I moved in aside from getting stuff put away and moved around. There are still things to be put away, but it’s looking very much like home. After spending a good part of the weekend in Smallville, Fred is eager to get the Madison house sold and move out here himself. He said that the living room section of the front room is very cozy and feels like home to him.
I told Nance while she was visiting that I’ve never loved a house as much as I love this one. We’re going to sell the Madison house, and I won’t miss it for one moment. It never felt like home the way the Smallville house does, probably because we worked so hard making it the way we wanted. I’m so comfortable here and I can’t wait ’til Fred and the spud are here full-time, too.
I need to get my ass in gear and start on the front flowerbed. Maybe once we’ve got the Madison house up for sale and I don’t have to worry about getting shit done over there, I can concentrate on the outside of the Smallville house. For sure I need to start hauling wood from the concrete pad in the back yard over to the wood shed. I need to get set up to strip the door that goes between the kitchen and laundry room. I need to get the weeds in the back yard mowed. The list is endless, but I don’t care – I love it!
* * *
The spud spent Tuesday and Wednesday night in Smallville with me. The painters were going to be at the Madison house bright and early, and I figured it’d be easier for her to just spend the night in Smallville rather than get up early and get out of their way.
She slept pretty well, and the cats were thrilled to have someone else to sleep with. Apparently Mister Boogers and Miz Poo spent the evening shuttling between her bed and mine.
She took a shower before bed, and I was sitting on the couch playing Snood for the 63 gazillionth time. She came running downstairs in nothing but a towel to report that there was a wasp in the bathroom, and Miz Poo was proving spectacularly unhelpful in disposing of it – maybe because Miz Poo’s reach is only about 3 feet high, and the wasp was hovering around the ceiling. I grabbed my trusty fly swatter and made short work of the wasp.
The bugs in this house aren’t nearly what they were when we first bought the house. I’ve had to kill three or four wasps in the course of the last nine days, and countless stink bugs (but stink bugs don’t scare me at ALL. Wasps scare me a little, but I’m not prone to the screaming jeebies when I see them anymore. I guess having to deal with hundreds of them last fall broke me of the screaming jeebies, for the most part. I still don’t like it when they fly at my face, though.). Speaking of stink bugs, the day after I moved in, I looked at Sugarbutt and saw that he was FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. After much chasing him down and prying his mouth open, I found a couple of legs and determined that he’d eaten a stink bug.
I suspect that’s a mistake he won’t be making again anytime soon.
* * *
Know what’s really weird? Being at the Madison house without the cats. I always walk through the door from the garage to the house and quickly close the door so Mister Boogers won’t try to escape. Except he’s not there. Also, there’s no one to harass me in the kitchen when I’m making my lunch.
Very very strange.
* * *
Before we moved our stuff to Smallville, I had to clean out the workshop part of the shed so we could move all the tools and painting stuff out there. While I was sweeping the floor, I discovered that apparently the cement for the floor of the workshop was poured on August 24, 1967. Very cool.
“Maybe she’ll forget I’m in here and I can spend some REAL quality time with those annoying little creatures!”
* * *
Previously
2006: Why do I feel like an ass all of a sudden?
2005: Damn. He saw through my wily scheme!
2004: She stood and let it sink in, then turned and flounced off.
2003: No entry.
2002: Cat pee, by the way, is the vilest-smelling stuff on this planet.
2001: Don’t you hate it when someone tries to be reasonable in the midst of your tightly choreographed hissy fit?
2000: “Of course they do, they like soft toilet paper. It’s the mafia, babe!”]]>