Random Things I Am Going to Tell You
So, we bought a house. It is nice, big, on over 7 acres, and covered heavily in wallpaper.
In case you didn’t know this, moving sucks. And this was my 8th move in nearly 9 years so I should be either immune to its suckness or really good at it, but I am neither. The packing up of one place in order to shuffle it over to another place and unpack it is about as fun as typing with wet nail polish – messy and frustrating. This move was the 2nd hardest one I have ever done, coming in second to the 6-day, cross-country move we did with a 2 and 4 year-old a few years back.
My new house is in a semi-unpacked state right now. We are unpacked enough to function kinda normally (ie. the beds have sheets on them), but there are boxes and bulging garbage bags littering every room. It’s a slice of chaos.
After this move, I learned that the secret to producing stink-free laundry in my front loader is vinegar. FYI, I’ve had that washer for 5 years. That is 5 years of random, inexplicably smelly clean clothes. Thank god for google, and all those earthy people out there.
I’ve decided that I hate anyone who says “hate is a really strong word” when I say that I hate something. I suspect that the same people probably regularly use words like “amazing,” “incredible,” and “fabulous” to describe salad dressing or a new bathrobe.
I think I am becoming jaded. We went to a mall and there was a goose stupidly standing in the middle of the parking lot. Ella and I wanted to rescue him, of course, but as you may know you can’t really do anything with a goose without his permission, so we gave up and headed toward the entrance. I turned before we passed through the doors to check on the goose and saw 2 boys, maybe late teens/early 20s, walking toward the goose with what I took to be menacing looks on their faces. I stood a little longer to see what they would do, and was pleasantly surprised to see them walk by the goose, pause and say something, laugh, then continue on. Then I realized how little hope I have for the world, because I really believed that they were going to attack and destroy the goose. This is sad, isn’t it?
I am not a smiler. Please don’t think this means I am unhappy, angry, suicidal, or surly. It only means that I am thinking about something and not aware that you are watching me, because if I know someone is watching me I try to at least not frown. Interpret as you will, of course. Some of us walk around with gigantic grins plastered across our gob holes, and I say rock on if that is you. I will be over here, not smiling but not frowning and remembering how often this was a problem for me when I worked at McDonald’s (and then I will be frowning at the memory). If you see someone not smiling, and you feel compelled to comment on it by saying something like “you okay?” or “why so serious?” or, my least favorite, “come on, smile!! It can’t be that bad!”, I would like for you to consider the possibility that that person has just received terrible news, or can’t find their dog, or maybe they are trying not to shit their pants. Asking them to smile seems kinda selfish, doesn’t it?
Finally, this is a public service announcement. Ladies, you can and should trim your nose hairs.