Whew, LOOOONG weekend. I’m sure you want to hear all about it! It’ll be great! Have a seat! Hey, where are you going, come back! Really, you’ll enjoy this. It involves livestock!
NOW I’ve got your attention, you perverts.
Anyhoo, the weekend began with a nice day off on Friday during which I cleaned out the garage. I then promptly filled it back up with more junk, particularly my buddy Craig’s refrigerator, which I’m storing for him until he moves into his new place in a few weeks. My mother was also kind enough to give me boxes and boxes of useless crap that I’d left in my old bedroom at her house.
I did manage to get my motorcycle free, so hopefully I’ll get it running soon and be able to ride it around the neighborhood a bit; I could use the practice before riding it to the repair shop for further maintenance, since I figure it might be nice to not crash into a tree on the way there. As we shall soon discover, I’m fragile enough as it is.
Friday evening, Brian and Mary came over; we moved a piano, and then went to a bar and ate things that are not on my diet.
Saturday, we went to Home Depot and purchased all kinds of paint supplies, steel brushes, spray paints, many grood things, and after spending a few hours chatting with our friendly peeps Dan and Lynn, got our paint on. We had to begin painting the living room because I want to be able to tune the piano. The logic of the previous statement is explained thusly:
- The piano is in the living room.
- It needs to be tuned.
- Per #2, it is scheduled to be tuned on Thursday.
- When you move a piano, it tends to go out of tune.
- We wish to paint the living room.
- To paint a living room wall, it is usually necessary that there be nothing blocking your access to that wall.
- The piano was against a wall.
- Ergo, it needed to be moved.
- Per #4, I didn’t wish to pay $150+ to have it tuned (it’s very out of tune) and then have to move it a few weeks later to paint, thereby putting it out of tune.
- We needed to move it out of the way and begin painting, which we did, so that when the piano-wall was done we could move the piano back into place to be tuned. Which we have done. Q.E.D.
Of course, I neglected to think that I might want to be ripping up the carpet if I discover that there’s hardwood under it. I’m not a great “plan ahead” kind of guy. Anyway, Saturday afternoon and evening was paint day. We thought of going out for a nice dinner Saturday night, but I was on call, and I knew as soon as we sat down I’d get paged. Did I get paged? No, of course not, because we didn’t go anywhere. My job is so lame.
Sunday, we got up and went to church since my Moms and El Maj were singing duet-type jaunpiece. It was very nice, even though poor Sarah got a little confused from time to time. (I’m trying to actually get to church with reasonable frequency this summer to try and stave off my eventual damnation.)
After that I put another coat of paint behind the piano and on myself, and we headed over to Mandy and Speech’s for drinks and grub. While there, we noticed that they had a girl’s 10 speed bike on the front porch, that Mandy immediately gave to HW. So I get to go over there later and pick that up, which will be nice, since Sarah will take any opportunity to injure herself on two wheels. (Says the idiot that fell off his bike during the motorcycle course 2 years ago.)
The remainder of the evening became rather anacreontic, as we went over to The Boys™ for vast amounts of food, wine, and political argument. (My parents friends are rather liberal; I am rather, um, not (Vote Libertarian!).) I was asked several times during the course of the evening whether or not I had an off switch. (Answer: hells no.) I was also chided by my friend Michele for pronouncing the word “absurd” in this manner: “abzurd,” as opposed to “abssurd.” I, of course, looked it up later, and discovered that either pronunciation is legal (although the latter is the preferred), so I offer this in response: Nah. Nee Nah. Nee Boo.
Boo.
Man, was I hammered on Sunday. Luckily, Sarah drove home.
The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bad in a BAAAAAAAD way. I actually got outside and ran a mile before we got in the car to drive to Lancaster for the day, stopping first at my Aunt Rebecca’s house, where we ate crab-toast, cinnamon flop, and Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding. My mother made it. I’m pretty sure she’s a hecubus, or at least a sizeable imp of some kind.
Next, we headed over to Aunt Nanette’s farm, where we feasted on rosemary-coated lamb (as opposed to Rosemary Clooney lamb) and I ate the rest of the cinnamon flop. I also took the opportunity to take pictures of her sheep and calf. The calf will be a steer in a few weeks, and looked exceptionally tasty. The lambs, of course, looked absolutely succulent. Before I remembered myself I found myself gnawing on the thigh of one of the larger ones, which earned me some strange looks from the other barn-dwellers. My relatives, of course, took it all in stride.
Last, but certainly not least, we went over to Uncle Gord’s place, where we stuffed ourselves with dessert and swam in the pool, not necessarily in that order. Because Uncle Gord no longer drinks, nobody else was drinking, so we were even able to stay sober for the 90 minute drive home! I even managed to get off of Rt. 30 at Rt. 741 and didn’t get lost once! Man, I’m hell of brilliant. Sometimes being me hurts.
Tuesday started off poorly when I ran for 6 minutes and then threw out my back. (See? Being me really DOES hurt.) Particularly when I realized that I’d be moving our dining room furniture, and the piano, later that morning. Not good times. Excruciating times. So I pounded half a bottle of Advil with a vodka chaser and got to work, driving up to Sarah’s parents to pick up the furniture, load it into my truck and their van, and then drive it back down to the house. Luckily, it was mostly veneer-type stuff, so it wasn’t terribly heavy. The piano, on the other hand, is never getting moved again without the benefit of a crane. We’ll just leave it with the house. Or perhaps burn it, while drunk. I’m looking forward to that bacchanalian extravaganza.
The day didn’t improve when, at 4pm, I got paged for the first time all weekend, and the issues escalated from there, to the point that I missed most of Brigadoon rehearsal, for which I still feel rather guilty, since as a lead, my presence is rather important. Plus I lend an air of sexiness to the whole production that it sorely needs. I ended up being stuck at the data center until almost 1am, after which I passed out in my bed in the nude. (That’s right, picture it. I was lying face up. Blind now, aren’t you? Welcome to my wife’s world.)
I told you you’d want to read this.
