Monday, January 25, 2010

It's just not Wheaties if there ain't no wheat.

So, there’s sushi to look forward to.

And then a trip to a lawyer’s office to start the process of writing up wills and estate plans and naming executors and guardians and Grand Lord Poohbahs if anything terribly untoward should happen to me or Biff in the next several years.

Also, benefits to sign up for at work – which plan at which deductible, how many multiples of annual salary to take as life insurance, dental preventive or just dental discount, etc etc blah blah blippity blah.

Never mind the work stuff, which I just made up a list of for ‘to do’ and which now sits glaring at me in orange dry-erase marker over my right shoulder, daring me to take a bite out of it, go on, just TRY.

All of which buzzes around my bleary noggin, for a combination of

1) some mystery really really BAD smell in the house plus
2) being a touch too warm plus
3) a restless spouse plus
4) kittens playing with toys at 3:45 a.m.

combined to make for a very odd rest after waking up at the aforementioned 3:45 a.m.. Amelioration action items included:

a) opening the BR window to help with the smell (which I suspect is coming from the dog),
b) ignoring the cats as much as possible because we all know that nothing will calm down a cataranging kitten (much less TWO of them), and
c) kicking off the covers to help with the warmth,

but even so, the sleep I got in the second half of the night was the semi-awakey kind when the act of falling asleep is accompanied by the sensation of falling which in turn wakes a body up so that one can catch ones-self before impact. That, and every time I thought I was falling asleep it felt like I was choking, and so had to wake up to fix THAT lil’ problem. Eventually, thankfully, there was some sleep happening, but because I’m me the rest was not restful and instead filled with dreams of gigantic dual-rotor helicopters whizzing overhead, tornadoes that seemed to want to chase only me and my family, trying to hold onto children while in the midst of said tornado, and other Armaggedon-ish nightmares. Something tells me I shouldn’t have started a conversation about the end times with Biff over nachos and cocktails last night, for while I learned a great deal about his personal philosophies and beliefs on that subject, my brain is still just beginning to gnaw on the low-hanging fruit of that particular tale, therefore rendering it all too active trying to chew the philosophical cud during the semiconscious hours.

Oh, and we ripped out the tub/shower last night, so there’s not even the clarifying balm of a scalding hot shower to put into play. Eh, once we put in the brand-spanking new super-deep soaking tub, that little item will be somewhat rectified. Now there’s merely the questions of what kind of tile to put in, in what pattern, and with what grout. Let’s hear it for spur-of-the-moment renovation decisions! Even if they are accompanied by a thick coating of “OMG that’s so gross” when the tub comes free and all the gross moldy damp mouse-chewed insulation and backerboard become apparent. This is what rubber gloves were invented for, and why having about 800 55-gallon contractor’s trash bags at the ready is such a good idea. Because dang – don’t touch that crap but let’s get all of it out of the house as soon as possible. Also, try hard to not breathe very often, because fiberglass and mold and mouse ick = nothing you want to have in your lungs. At all. Ever. It’s cleaned up now, and is airing out, but that hole in the floor where the plumbing comes up from the crawl space is squicking me out and must be dealt with soon else I have visions of rat heads peeping at me while I’m pooping. It’s me, people, you know it’s only a matter of time.

Anyhow, there’s sushi to look forward to. Maybe a heaping helping of wasabi (wasaaaaaabi!) will help clear my head and get me to a place of unmuzziness. Could happen, but don't bet the farm on it.

Keep on rocking, y'all. See you around.

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