2. Nothing I enjoy more than a losing battle...
Me: "Off the couch. Off the couch. Off the couch. Off the couch. Off the couch."
Me: [leaves the office/den and then returns only a few moments later]
3. Hand-me-downs Continued.
In addition to inheriting a sweater, I also inherited a refrigerator from my mother. A real grown-up refrigerator with a door that seals all the way without having to smoosh the bottom corner shut with your foot. First order of business was NOT to transfer the food from the old refrigerator that is plugged into an extension cord and sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. That's just crazy talk. No, it was to move the refrigerator magnets, photos and humorous whatnot.
You can give a girl a grown-up refrigerator,
but it doesn't mean she'll suddenly act like one.
A grown-up, that is, not a refrigerator...
Getting it in the house was an adventure. My brother and two friends (who fancy themselves my surrogate brothers) moved it for me on Saturday. During the week prior - and twice more the day of - I was asked by my mother, actual brother, one faux brother and my father if I had measured the refrigerator to make sure it would fit. I came to be a little agitated at all the asking. "You know, I'm not as dumb as I look," I said to actual brother. "Yes. I measured. You're the fourth person to ask," I said with a slight growl to faux brother.
And I had measured. Just not correctly it seems. And for some reason it never occurred to me to measure the doorway at my mother's house. I mean... just because their house was built a good 40 or 50 years before refrigerators were even invented, why should there be any problem with it fitting through the front door? Again, that's just crazy talk.
So the refrigerator and freezer door had to be removed and then the little bolts that attach the casters to the bottom got hung up on the storm door at my house and required two people to balance the refrigerator on one end while a third person squatted beneath the tipped up end to tighten up the bolts enough to get it through the door.
The brothers - both actual and faux - were none too amused.
Thankfully real brother got over it quickly - probably because our shared DNA causes him to create these situations as well.
The other two can be bought off with alcohol and banana pudding.
So we're all good for now, but I'll see what kind of problems I can stir up between now and Ash Wednesday.
Hope you enjoyed your Presidents Day!