reading: Tales from the Scale. I have to say, even if I weren’t involved with this book at all, I’d think it’s a really good one. I had a hard, hard time putting it down last night and only did around midnight because I could barely keep my eyes open.
As a bonus (for me, anyway), I read a chapter that I had completely forgotten writing, and thought to myself “Hey. That’s not totally terrible!”
Finished last night: Hissy Fit. Who is this Mary Kay Andrews, and how come no one’s ever mentioned her to me before?! This was a good book and a quick read. I loved it!
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I went to the grocery store this morning, and by the time I left, I was ready to kill someone. I should have known when I pulled into the parking lot and saw TWO school buses unloading in front of the store that it wasn’t going to be an easy shopping experience.
First I had to wait five minutes for the kids – who appeared to be around kindergarten age – to finish milling through the front door, then I had to wait for them to move out of the way so I could grab a basket. Basket in hand, I headed for the bakery section, only guess what? Yes, that’s right. It was crowded with kids. And the employees were gathered around handing out stickers or something to the kids. When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to get into the bakery section, I headed for the produce section.
Which was crammed with kids.
And as I walked by the produce section, the produce manager FOR SOME UNGODLY FUCKING REASON thought it would be a good idea to have all the kids scream at the top of their VERY FUCKING LOUD lungs, and they screamed and they screamed and they screamed and I ran away from the produce section as fast as my stubby little legs could carry me, my ears aching. I grabbed the few things I really needed – shampoo, Edy’s Light chocolate chip ice cream – and paid for it as fast as I could, and I all but ran out the front door of the store. The kids were STILL screaming (they might be small, but they have big lungs), and an older lady was walking toward the store, and I gave her a wild-eyed look and said “You DON’T want to go in there!” She gave me a wary
oh-hey-it’s-a-crazy-person look and walked through the front door.
And before I’d even made it to my car, she had come back out the door, and she gave me a commiserating smile and said “You were right!”
Damn skippy I was right.
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Pet store kitty pics from Monday are
hither.
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The guy who bought our old big-screen TV (you know, the perfectly good one that did not, in actuality, need to be replaced by a high-definition TV, but I don’t get a vote in these matters regarding funds that would be better used BUYING NEW FUCKING CARPET FOR THE HOUSE. Though when I’m watching American Idol and can actually count the stubble on Ryan Seacrest’s face, it’s almost worth it.) finally came and picked it up yesterday. Which means that the garage has only the one big-screen TV (which has a burned-in image on it, and actually
did need to be replaced a few years ago, and so now it lives in the garage and I use it when I’m exercising), and now I can stop bitching about how I can’t wait to get the damn TV out of the garage.
Also, the sale of the TV will be partially paying for our trip to Florida this summer, so it’s all good.
I do need to get out there and vacuum the rug in the garage, though. It’s been a few months, so it pretty desperately needs it.
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I’m going to try to talk Fred into going antiquing this weekend. I bet that won’t be a very hard sell. We went a few weekends ago (the weekend before he had his vasectomy), and suddenly got it into our heads that maybe we need a new end table for the living room. The one we currently have is okay, though it’s a little beat up.
We ended up at a reallllllly nice antique store in Huntsville, and saw an end table that I really liked a lot. Not only was it big enough to hold a lamp and a cat bed (yes, we DO have our priorities!), it also had a drawer, and a shelf underneath to hold books or my current cross-stitching project, or whatever. The only problem was that it was from the 1940s, and Fred is a snob who was of the impression that that was not NEARLY old enough. He found a table that he really, really liked, and it was old enough and everything, but the price was a little more than he wanted to pay.
So we went to another antique store, didn’t see any end tables at all, and then went to yet another. That last store? A total mistake. As soon as we walked through the door, the woman working there came up to us and asked if we were looking for anything specific. I should have said that we were just looking, but instead I said that we were looking for an end table, and that was all she wrote. She followed us into the large back room and basically pointed out every single piece of furniture that could possibly be used as an end table. She quizzed Fred about what exactly he was looking for. When he showed some slight interest in a table, she tried to get him to take that table AND the one next to it. She said “I won’t give up until you’ve found what you want!”, and she said it several times.
By the time we’d been in the store ten minutes, I was ready to push her down and run for the door. Finally, Fred muttered something about having to think about it, and we beat a hasty retreat. She followed us to the door, and quite frankly I’m amazed she didn’t throw herself on the hood of the car and beg us to buy SOMETHING.
My god, I hate it when salespeople don’t understand that I want to be left alone to look at things, and if I have a question or need help I WILL ASK FOR IT. Hoverers make me want to just get the hell out of that store as soon as humanly possible.
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