I am woman, hear me get trapped under large pieces of furniture.

Look, when my mom plans a visit, my MO is to spend a good portion of time thinking about all the things I should clean and/or bleach before she gets here. Please note I said thinking about. I do a lot of thinking and not a lot of doing, which is also my MO. I mean, we’re talking about a woman who, when visiting, I will randomly happen upon on her hands and knees in my kitchen, removing everything from my cupboards so she can scrub every nook and cranny. Why would I want to clean ahead of time and take that away from her? But this upcoming visit has the extra stress of what object she will actually be sleeping on. We’ve had a futon in the guest room for almost 6 years, with a memory foam topper that was somewhat comfortable for a while, but not anymore.

(OK seriously. It just occurred to me that I’m more invested in this topic than anyone else should be and I’M boring myself. I’m switching to list form to speed this whole process along for all of us.)

1. I tell Mom how crowded the guest room seems since it was the only room where we could fit the treadmill.
2. Mom mentions that I should move the twin bed (currently stored in the finished basement) into the guest room.
3. I figure there’s no where else the futon will fit (extremely narrow doors leading to the basement) so I don’t think about it again.
4. Sister tells me that mom thinks the futon is uncomfortable and would rather sleep on the twin bed.
5. I am immediately overcome with guilt over making my mom sleep on an uncomfortable futon and decide to move the twin bed in there and get the futon out of the room.
6. Because I am a combination of (a) impatient, (2) spatially challenged, and (iii) convinced that I can get any piece of furniture anywhere I want it, I attempt to move the futon myself last Thursday (the date is relevant) while Mr. Zoo is at work.
7. I get the futon stuck just outside the door of the guest room.
8. I email Mr. Zoo a picture and say “Um, April Fools? Except not?”
9. Mr. Zoo tells me I’m fired.
10. I manage to un-stuck the futon and get it back the bedroom, but only after wedging out about a foot-long strip of plaster or dry wall or whatever above the doorway to the kitchen, AND losing a screw out of the futon.
11. We decide that if the futon was uncomfortable before, it could only be worse after being wedged between doorways and losing screws and whatnot. We decide it’s time to say goodbye to the futon.
12. I decide to try to disassemble the futon.
13. It is impossible to take apart.
14. So I started kicking at it.
15. Now it’s in 5 pieces.
16. Want a futon?

MIA

About one-third of a mile down the street from Le Zoo House, there is an area becoming known as Montavilla strip that is chock-full (That’s right! Full! of Chock!) of local businesses that make this homeowner and her husband very happy. And not just for the really grown-up feeling of increasing property values. Check out the variety of stuff we have a five-minute walk away:

• Bipartisan Cafe which is just like what it sounds.
• A movie theater restored to its 1940s glory that shows movies for $4 and serves beer and pizza from:
• The best pizza place in Portland.
• A (reeeeeally good) Lebanese restaurant, a sushi place, and a faux posh restaurant that we still haven’t tried out but always seems packed.
• A couple of cocktail-loungey type places.
• A flower shop.
• Our share of seedy, divey, and questionable businesses, including one that went from an AWESOME name to one that is pretty vanilla.
• A boutique-y pet store and a doggie daycare/boarding place with a silly name.
• A pastry shop and, apparently, a pie place?
• A hair salon, acupuncture, and “wellness movement” place (I don’t know what it means either, but it doesn’t have to do with THAT kind of movement).
• A garment factory and showroom and a boutique that sells products by a local collective.
• A bike shop, apparently a brewing company, and a tattoo place.

and last but not least,

• FARMER’S MARKET!

Doesn’t that all sound super cool? I agree. But do you notice anything missing? Flobbity-jillion places to eat or drink, a “movement” business, basically any service any person could want or need, and NOT ONE BOOK STORE. Why hate to read, Montavilla?

Any used book sellers wanting to open a place up, I have the ideal location for you.

More anxiety-inducing than having your fridge go kaput:

1. Waiting for the fridge repair guy with bated breath once the clock hits the magic first minute of their two-hour window.
2. Preemptively stressing out because the dogs will freak out and I’ll have to get them in another room before opening the door which will be difficult because of the aforementioned freaking out and yes I know I should just train them to be cool little cucumbers when new people come over but seriously have you met my dogs and you just try it so there.
3. Knowing I’m going to have to pee at some point and then will try to hold it because what if he shows up when I just get to the bathroom but then I can’t hold it anymore and then almost die from the holding it too long.
4. Obsessively checking my bank account online to figure out what we can afford for repairs, like if I check just one more time there might suddenly be money that I didn’t see before.

If nothing else, if the fridge turns out to be un-repairable, at least I won’t feel bad for not cleaning it in a while. So there, Fridge Fates!