So this past weekend was full of many things: Boxes, rain, tufts of dog hair floating on the wood floors of my empty house, a broken fridge, family, petting my sister's silky-soft hair, staying up all night long, dropping a cutting board on my foot, breaking a favorite wine glass, yelling at AT&T, kissing my husband's sweet face, watching my old lady dog grow weaker by the day, feeling blessed in this life, thoughts and fervert prayers for a woman I do not know (but hope to one day), prayers for future projects for my husband, a new big-girl bed for my sweet girl, a sneakered foot stepping in the dogs' water bowl, Starbucks & cinnamon toast, clean sheets, chapped lips, and music.
I have always listened to music while doing things-writing, reading, studying, going to sleep, pulling weeds, whatever it is. I got this from my father, I am sure. He is who taught me the words to all Billy Joel, The Eagles, and ELO songs as a toddler.
My sister and I played music on my compter all weekend while unpacking and organizing this new house that I already love. She made fun of my choice of the Coffeehouse channel. Then she introduced me to this song:
'She is Love' by Parachute
Then we started singing this song again:
Specifically, we were singing the 'La la la la' part, followed by the annoying squawk that sounds vaguely like Mariah. Don't ask me how we even started singing it.
Then we moved on to this:
This song caused all sorts of random ass-shaking in my kitchen, followed by a fit of giggles, and then an Internet search for the scene in The Proposal where Sandra Bullock performs the song.
At some point my husband belted out old Prince lyrics, or maybe it was 2 Live Crew?
Most of my house is unpacked. Some of it is put away in a place that makes logical sense. Some of it is so random, like the pillow in the laundry room, the Easter basket on the kitchen counter, and the lamp in the middle of the entryway floor. The fridge was a clusterfuck of rust and maggots. No, really. Apparently the compressor burst inside of it, and somehow it got moldy? Or some such shit? I don't know. I am sick of our bad luck with fridges, and I definitely DO NOT want my fridge back at the house we just sold. But this one? Gah. We left it on the driveway in the rain last night after spraying it down w/ Lysol. Then today my father and father-in-law scrubbed the hell out of it. My hubby decided to soak them in our bathtub, and he used far too much Lysol concentrate. He then proceeded to turn on the 'turbo bubbles'? And leave the bathroom. Yeah, I can't tell you how fast a full bathtub fills up with Lysol bubbles, but I can tell you that dead maggots float on top of bubbles. I don't know. I wish I was lying.
There are broken down boxes EVERYWHERE. We have no phone, no cable/satellite, but we do have a wireless card, thank you sweet mary.
I have a paper due today. Can you guess when I wrote it?
I am a hot mess, people. And?
Thanksgiving is at my house again this year.