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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?

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:

and last but not least,

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.


April 2018
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I said what?