Nothing for you to read lately, that is. Husband still has no job although I did spend the last day and a half writing an entirely new resumé* from scratch (A pain! There needs to be some sort of employment thesaurus that only lists words like “productivity” and “problem solver”).
I installed my new kitchen faucet only to have it come uninstalled even though I had the plumber give it a good screw (haha. I said “good screw”. Hilarious, no?) It is still attached and fully functional, it’s just semi-dangling there. I didn’t even bother to take a picture first. Dangit.
My mudroom still isn’t happening because certain husbands are really dragging their feet about installing the new floor.
Certain husbands are also refusing to install new beadboard on top of the dreary beige tile backsplash in my kitchen. Even though my friend Cheryl did it and it’s super cute and easy (although it makes me a copycat to do it too. I hate being a copycat. I’m sorry to rag on Utah but that’s one of the things I hated most about living there–everyone copies everyone else. Same hairdo, same fake boobs, same fancy jeans, same house decorated the same way). But I detest beige in all forms and must purge it from my life. Or at least from my kitchen. I don’t understand the thinking that making everything beige is appealing to the next owner of the house. First of all does anyone actually like beige? That’s like being able to pick any kind of cheese and picking Kraft American slices. Secondly, why would I decorate my house for the next person who lives here? Wouldn’t I want to decorate it the way I like and let the next person who lives here pick up the pieces? Answer: yes. The only person who wouldn’t think that was a good idea is one of those people who’s kind of a martyr. Those people who get some sort of little thrill by depriving themselves of things. A martyr I am not.
(Have I mentioned that I fix almost everything around my house. I’m kind of proud of myself, but it also drives me crazy that it’s one more thing I have to do. Ahem, Mister. I complained about this and he actually said, “I’m just not a fix-it kind of guy.” Like I am! I am an impatient kind of
guy girl, though, so I just figure out what needs to be done and do it.)
I have book club at my house next Tuesday and was using that as my deadline to get all my projects done. But in my heart and soul I am a procrastinator so the whole deadline thing is still a little fluid in my mind.
I hate being a procrastinator. But apparently I hate planning ahead even more. So I am stuck missing dress rehearsals for ballet and other importantish things.
But I like planning ahead for the end of the world. I’m totally going to be super ready for Armageddon. Me and my solar oven and canned butter. I don’t get this about myself. I plan ahead for things that probably won’t happen, but things that for sure will happen somehow don’t seem important enough.
I’m really looking forward to the book we’re doing for book club (Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski). I have completely forgotten it since I read it last year so it’s like a new book allover again (except I remember the ending. Darn). I’m also not sure that anyone else will have read it. Our club is an odd bunch and everyone’s taste seems . . . different than mine.
So that’s my life these days. Pretty lame. It’s why I haven’t been writing much. Although my life is always pretty lame and that has never stopped me before.
*You may think it’s pretentious to put an accent over the e at the end of resumé, but if you don’t it just says resume, as in “start over”. So I really have to do the accent. Plus it took me a long time to figure out how to do those accents and I feel I need to employ them as often as possible.)