Moving and other nonsense

Ok, I'll admit it. I've been horribly neglecting my "fan base." That means you, although "fan" may be too strong of a word. These past couple of weeks has been a chaotic mess of packing, garage sales, signing contracts, doing walk-thrus, having guest, and finally moving, and now unpacking. As soon as I get internet in my home (and don't have to sit next to a guy with horribly bad breath in the public library) I will become much more diligent. Until then, I may be off the internet for about a week or a week and a half.

We officially moved everything last Friday. It is now Monday, and it still looks as if we just moved in hours ago. I'm going to blame this on Gas Monkey's insistence on giving himself new projects, therefore postponing the necessarily unpleasant unpacking process. I.e. the boy spent eight hours installing an on-demand water heater (I've never seen the boy's face quite light up with that degree of happiness until after he successfully installed it and took his first hot shower. He was glowing with pride, and probably pain after sitting on his knees in the crawl-space for that long). Ok, I thought to myself, that's good. We needed a water heater. We can unpack on Sunday. Alas, it was not to be. We spent two hours at the man palace that is Home Depot. We bought numerous pieces so Gas Monkey could insulate the new copper pipes, put in a new air filter, and install, yes install, cable and internet in every room. Can you guess where this is going? Yeah, no unpacking yesterday either.

Gas Monkey let me cut the holes in the drywall, cause I'm tough and precise like that (although not too precise since I nicked a wire, although the power was off). Then, since Gas Monkey is precise, he attempted to drill a hole up through the crawl space into the wall in the living room. Apparently he is not so precise, since we now have a 1/4 inch hole through the hard wood in one of the closets. But, after 5 tries, and only one visible error, we managed to wire the living room. So yay! Now, I get to spend most of the day at home, without internet or tv (for about a week) at home without a book to read (since I can't justify spending $10 on the next Twilight installment, and have to wait about a week or two for any book I want to come in through the library. So, I'm bored. And I have a lot of work to do at home, but I like to procrastinate as well, which is why I am here at the library, writing this lengthy update. It will not happen again for awhile. I will send out change of address forms later.

When I get internet, I will describe in the most delightful of details, the garage sale and all of our customers. It was an awesome experience from beginning to end.

Cereal Wars

Ok, I know I haven't been so diligent with my posting. Here is the most recent situation. I was frustrated today because our pantry was full. To my surprise (and horror), there were five nearly empty boxes of cereal. I don't eat cereal. Obviously, Gas Monkey bought cereal, would eat it until there were only a few pieces left, and then leave the box in the pantry, because throwing it away would be oh too simple. So five boxes with only 1/4 cup of cereal in each. So I pulled the boxes out of the pantry, determined to make a point. Then Gas Monkey came home. He was hungry for dinner. So I said, "We have a problem." While he waited for the problem to speak itself, I carried the five boxes to the living room, and plopped them in front of the couch (he was watching the Rockies game 4 playoff game). Instead of him taking them to the recycling, he grabs the nearest one and starts munching. "Here," I said, "let me make this easier." So I took all the boxes back to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, and filled it up. "Dinner."

At least this is further proof about how strong our relationship is. I get slightly annoyed with Gas Monkey for being "trash lazy." I tried to emphasize the importance of the situation. He retaliated. So I retaliated. Now he is eating mixed cereal (maybe up to a year old), and the boxes are now siting on my clean counter, instead of the recycle bin . . . so I lose again, but at least I am slightly entertained. And don't worry, I'll still make him dinner. That is, if he stops loudly crunching his cereal to various Rockies' chants. Although it does make me wonder if all my gourmet dinners are a waste of time and effort.

Idiot that I am

So here I am, 9:30 a.m. A whopping half an hour before B shows up to take me to her house to take more pictures of her stuff. I have been up since 7:30, and have only managed to clean the basement. Gas Monkey's dad is coming today, hence the whole "me-getting-up-early-to-clean" freak scenario. I am way behind and a tad grumpy. I have not even started the main floor or taken a shower. Whatever I don't get done before B arrives, may not get done before Gas Monkey's dad comes over. Hence the grumpy my-house-has-gone-batshit-and-I-don't-want-to-be-up-this-early-cleaning-it-and-I'm-almost-out-of-time-so-I-think-I-should-write-a-blog attitude. But that is not why I am writing.
B has so graciously given us this older vacuum cleaner from either the 80s or 90s (hard to tell). We love love love this vacuum cleaner. It picks up everything, including the piles of cat hair that always seems to be accumulating around our house, no matter how often we vacuum. The other fantastic thing about this vacuum cleaner, when it breaks, you can fix it! Don't be too jealous now. After all, such vacuum cleaners are not made anymore. Let me demonstrate the power of this vacuum cleaner with an excerpt from my morning (and I know by now you are in awe that a blog about a nondescript vacuum cleaner could be this long).
First, I was trying to vacuum the bathroom mats in the basement. Sure enough, as always happens, it sucks up the corner, and before I can remedy the situation, the brush stops working. Not getting too excited until I assess the damage, I unplug the vacuum cleaner, sit on the floor and try to figure out how to open it. Opening it involves a screwdriver, which is entirely too much work. Hoping the vacuum just overheated, I let it sit in peace for 15 minutes. I plug it back in and nothing happens. Around this time, numerous expletives beginning with an "s" stream out of my mouth, gradually turning into a fury of "f" words. Hint: "fudge" is not one of the words. I look around. The basement floor is covered in random bits of crap from all of Gas Monkey's numerous projects. I go upstairs, find the manual (thank god we still have the manual) and read through. To my delight, there is a "reset" button! Problem solved.
Next, (to answer your question, yes, this story continues) I vacuum the stairs. As I reach the top of the stairs, I pick up the head of the vacuum (it is one of those two part ones), and as I am sticking it on the main landing, to my horror, it sucks up my toes!!!!!! I repeat, this vacuum cleaner is so powerful it jammed itself with my toes, which makes me wonder if my toes are too long. I try to pull said toes out of the vacuum, but it won't let them go. Luckily, I am right next to the power cord. With a grimace I reach over and pull the plug. The brush stops. Problem being, my toes are still jammed in the vacuum cleaner. With an even larger grimace, I pull on my toes, and slowly turn the brush until they are free. And that is my story.
The irony: the vaccum cleaner protects itself from jamming, and managed to stop itself when the flimsy, lifeless rug was caught. A rather ingenious design. However, it did not stop when a person's extremities were caught. Maybe I should have broken a couple of toes so I could have sued them for big money. Then I could be the person behind a new warning label saying "Warning: Vacuum cleaner not intended for cleaning toes."