Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Day 352: Seriously, I Got Nothin'

I was so busy today; why on earth do I have nothing to blog about?
  • Worked worked worked. Chapters 1–3 were well-written, an easy-breezy copy edit. Just hit Chapter 4, which is a clusterf*ck. I've . . . slowed down.
  • Welcomed the Sears guy, who was here as a result of 12 hours on the phone with Sears Customer "Service." Turns out — no one at Customer "Service" actually listened to my problem, and they sent me a dishwasher repair guy . . . to fix a plumbing problem. Caused by their dishwasher installers. However, the dishwasher guy (either Darren or Darrell, we didn't quite catch it) was very nice and helped us figure out what the problem actually was, which Husband could fix himself with a $6 part from Home Depot. Thank you, Darren-Darrell! You put the "vice" in "Service," if you know what I'm saying, nudge nudge, wink wink!
  • Wrote my letter of resignation to the church committee and brought some files to Old Pill's house. (She said yes, but only after chiding me for misrepresenting the job so much. Which I did NOT. She listens about as well as Sears Customer "Service.") When I reached her porch, she opened the door and said coldly, "Did you want to come in?" And I was never heard from again.
  • Gave Mimosa a pep talk and dropped her off at the elementary school, where some of the high school volleyball team was doing drills. She plans to try out for the freshman team in the fall, and our old babysitter, the new volleyball team co-captain, invited her to the Tuesday games — but babysitter wasn't there yet, and my shy darling was going to have to approach four girls she didn't know and ask if she could play with them. Four high school girls. Four athletes. I knew this would be excruciating for her — but she did it! And she stayed and played with them for and hour and fifteen minutes!! I am insanely proud of my girl. (Babysitter never did she up; she's in California — which makes it all the cooler. My bashful sweetie did this all by herself!)
  • Went to zumba, sweated like a trucker passing through Arizona with no a.c. Small class tonight, which was quite fun — a lot of talking and teasing and laughing. And a great workout, too. The Italian Spitfire has always been fond of squats, but now she's making us do a lot more arm stuff. I come home wet and sore and limp and glowing and virtuous. Love my zumba!!
OK, in retrospect the day is sounding a little more interesting than it seemed when I started writing. Oh, and here's one more good thing: Yesterday, Husband and I were all pissy with each other, and today we talked about what was going on — and we were calm and rational and kind and listened to each other and came to a nice resolution. Yay! Our therapist would be happy-dancing all over our kitchen at this news! And huge kudos to Husband, as "talking about the relationship" is about #2,743,976,425 on his list of Fun Things to Do, right before "kissing each cat on the lips" and right after "letting Wife help you clean out your closet," so he gets major strokes for doing this with me. Stroke! Stroke!

Off to —where else? — the bathtub. I won't finish Annie's Ghosts tonight, I got distracted by a backlog of People magazines. Rob and Kristen! Tom and Katie! The problems of rich skinny famous people — so exciting! We'll see which catches my attention first.

—Lady C

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