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This is me. For the first several hours.
Home-Alone-jump-on-bed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then this is me. For five days.

house bored
soverybored

Normally the spouse does the grocery shopping on Saturdays. I hate most shopping as a general rule, but mostly the grocery store. Oh and there’s also that thing where I am a visual sucker so even going to the store with a list and on a full stomach doesn’t negate me buying crap I don’t need because IT’S RIGHT THERE AT EYE LEVEL. So it’s best if he goes alone. But sometimes I end up going with him. Today was one of those days. Today was also the day that the Girl Scouts set up their table selling their boxes of evil deliciousness.

And my husband wouldn’t let me buy a box of Thin Mints. He DENIED me Thin Mints. Now, I know he knows me well enough to know that he was (accurately) flashing ahead 6 hours when he would be hearing “HOW COULD YOU LET ME EAT ALL THOSE THIN MINTS?!” but still, dude. He looked that adorable little Girl Scout in the eye and said No.
I weep.
(Un)fortunately I remembered that my 10-year-old niece is a GS, so when we got home I texted her to see if they can ship those suckers. Answer: Yes! And get this! Shipping is FREE! But. Apparently there is a 4-box minimum for shipping. Um. Okay. And. Since they’re $4 a box and I like even numbers, I had to order 5 boxes to make it an even $20. Right? Right.
When I informed the husband, he was all, Hm. So I just should have let you buy the one box at the store, huh.
Yes. Yes you should’ve.
The boxes arrived today. I got creative.
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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?

Email

zooaskew[at]gmail[dot]com
June 2017
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