I got home around 6 pm or so and there was no truck in the driveway. Hmmm. That's odd because we expected him around 3:30. Here I was looking forward to seeing the tub I chose a month ago actually in my bathroom and not in my spare bedroom. Not only was he not there working, he never showed up at all. I hate-texted my husband to tell him "his boy" wasn't at our house. This lead promptly to a "I told you maybe" argument (which he did NOT tell me "maybe"). I sulked around. Called mother to whine and when she told me to relax, it'll get done I fired back with a picture of my spare bedroom in it's current state. I inherited my OCD from my mother so I knew she'd understand.
She didn't really. She empathized but told me to get over it, more or less. "Say it all to me now, get it out of your system". When I call mom, that's usually what I need. On a lighter note, the cat fell in the toilet again. Yesterday morning as Aaron was getting ready for work and was literally peeing...she jumped on in. I'm female so I don't know all the mechanics of peeing while standing up but I'm assuming it can be done with one hand? Which was my question to him. "Why didn't you use the other hand to stop her?" He said "How would I do that?" I didn't think an anatomy lesson was necessary. I left it at "I don't know how you pee...but...". Miss Turk got another bath yesterday morning.
I think Aaron felt mildly guilty for my stress level so he cleaned his closet out this weekend. I don't know where in that thought process he figured it would be a good idea to dump the items that didn't have a home on the floor of MY closet. I dug out a collapsible laundry basket (frankly I don't know where it came from or why we still have it...) and that ended up in my "fancy shoes" bin. It's exactly what it sounds like. I dumped that and several other items back in his closet. I came home to find Turk like this:
Inside of the collapsed bin, hiding out from Apollo who desperately wanted to get into it. He just didn't fit. This lasted for quite some time and I just snapped a few shots because it was wildly entertaining.
My last thought was regarding the DIY craze taking over America. I am a fan of DIY and if you have the time, energy and creativity...do it up. I do not consider myself an authenticated DIY-er because I sprayed a couple items silver. Don't misunderstand me. However, when I am driving down 84 on my way to work and I witness a DIY project on a VAN, I question how far we're taking this as a society. Do not ever spray paint components to your vehicle unless you want it to look like a Pirate Mobile.
What is this eye sore? What am I looking at? I considered riving my car off the road just to get away from this "treasure chest", but I really wanted to see the sides as I knew if they were willing to spray the tire holder and the "trunk" they didn't stop there. There was no "safe way" for me to get a pic of the side. I would have swerved while traveling in the fast lane and/or the gun toting DIY-er would have shot me when he realized I was photographing his Liberace town car. Sure enough, the frames around the windows were gold, the car door handles and even the bottom section that you stand on to get into this monstrosity. It was really special. I would ask that you do not DIY your cars, in the future, my readers.This has been a public service announcement.
XO Autumn Van Weir
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