So, you must be wondering, what did you do this weekend, Robyn? Oh, this and that. I got groceries, did some laundry, watched a movie or two with Fred, and drove my new vehicle around a bit. Drove your new vehicle around? Bitch. Yes, Fred got a bonus at work Friday, and went car-shopping for many many hours Saturday morning, before coming home with this, my new (used) ’97 Jeep Grand Cherokee. I had talked about wanting a Camry, but he proclaimed that it was like a tin can, and I’d be crushed in an instant by all the SUVs in the area, so he selfishly bought me the much more expensive Jeep. And compared to the damn truck I was previously driving, I like it a lot. Am I a spoiled rotten wife, or what? Speaking of his spoiling me rotten, Fred did get enough emails to convince him to make the Do you see what I see? wav, and decided he needed a Singalodeon to help him make it. He found one on Ebay, and it’s on the way, so the .wav should be up in the next week or so. I read Heather’s latest entry, about her talking in her sleep to her husband. It made me guffaw. Loudly. Situations where people talk in their sleep has always amused the hell out of me. Once, a couple of years ago, Fred and I were laying in bed drifting off to sleep, and he said "Oh, guess what?" in a semi-excited I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this voice. I perked right up and turned over to look at him. "What?" I said, because good gossip is, to me, like nectar from the gods. In response, he snored loudly. Another time, we were laying in bed (yes we do that a lot, have you noticed?) talking about his friends, a couple who lived in the apartment above him. He had just found out that the wife had had a miscarriage, and he was worried about what to say when next he saw them. "That’s going to be an awkward situation," he said, and in the next instant let out a loud snore. Obviously, the awkwardness of the situation was troubling him deeply. When I was a kid, my cousin Craig woke up in the middle of the night, went out to the kitchen, sat down at the table, and started banging his hand on the table, declaring loudly that he wanted something to eat. When told about it the next morning, he didn’t believe it had happened. I could go on, but I won’t bore you with any more anecdotes from the Life O’ Bitchypoo this time. The house is looking particularly good this week. I don’t think I mentioned it, but the lady who used to clean our house, Summer, quit because she has two small kids at home, and wasn’t making enough money cleaning houses for it to be worth it. They replaced Summer with Kim, who just didn’t do as good a job. Little things, like not cleaning around the litter box, and not cleaning the inside of the microwave. This past Thursday, Kim’s kid was sick, so they sent Carolyn instead, and let me just say hallelujah, brothers and sisters! It was like having Summer back again. Fred promptly called the lady who owns the cleaning service and asked if Carolyn could be our permanent cleaner. Do you see, people? Do you see why I love that man so? In an instance where I would have just kept quiet and let Kim come week after week and do less-than-stellar job, he stepped up to the plate and made that crucial call (because he knows I don’t like talking to people on the phone, and I would worry about Kim’s feelings getting hurt), without even hesitating. He’s mine, y’all. Keep your mitts off. —–]]>
02/21/2000