Ok, so I will follow my big heavy post (ha! no pun intended) with something completely light and boring. Like a weekend recap. On Friday, Dave and I bought a freezer for our garage. Do you know how cheap freezers are when compared to their refrigerator-freezer-combo brethren? As it turns out, SO cheap! So we bought it, it was delivered on Saturday, and it is awesome. After it was set up, we went to Costco to stock the new freezer with huge bulk items at incredibly low prices. A six-pound bag of meatballs? Why yes, thank you! Ten pounds of chicken breasts? Load it on the cart! Whee! Of course, the main idea with the freezer is that I can cook things in large quantities, then freeze part of it for later. So on the days I come home from work and don’t feel like cooking? Grab something out of the freezer, pop it in the oven for half an hour, and voila! It’s kind of embarassing to admit just how excited I got about this freezer. But hey, I’m a dork, and I will admit that I was really, REALLY excited. Excited to the point of jumping up and down while clapping maniacally. That excited.
Oh hey, remember Mr. Ralph Mouse from last weekend? Saturday night, Dave was half-asleep upstairs, I went down to the kitchen, turned the light on, and there he was scurrying across the kitchen floor. Well, perhaps not so much scurrying as he was limping, since it appeared that one of his hind legs was injured, so he was mostly just dragging himself by his front feet, which is kind of hard to do on hardwood floors. Still, he caught me by surprise, and I shrieked the loudest horror movie scream I think I have ever screamed, and then I called for Dave at least 4 or 5 times. He didn’t come, so I ran upstairs, threw open the bedroom door, and yelled something like “Mouse! Help!” Perhaps not the most polite on my part, but I was in panic mode, and my brain couldn’t quite process the idea of nice-ifying the message into something like, “Excuse me, sweetie, I know you’re trying to sleep, but there’s a small rodent leaving germs and god-knows-what-else all over the lovely downstairs part of our home, would you be so kind as to come down to remove it from the premises?” A good minute or so later, Dave finally came downstairs. Meanwhile, the mouse had squeezed himself under the door and into our front hall closet, and I was trying to figure out a way that I was going to scoop him up into a tupperware thing (which I probably could’ve done, since he was injured and moving so slowly). Instead, Dave went into the closet, picked the mouse up by his tail (!!) and deposited him outside. He was quite pissy about it, and I got mad because the whole “eek, a mouse!” thing is part of my female genetic imperative, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that except shriek like a helpless whiny little victim. But he totally redeemed himself by getting flowers for me on Sunday morning before I woke up. So all is well in our household, have no fear.
Sunday ended up being yet another home improvement day, because Dave decided that he wants to turn his little den/music room into his office, which means that I’m going to take over his office, since my current office is basically a guest room with a desk in it. We decided to paint his office (my future office) because it’s a small room, and the walls are dark blue, which makes it feel really closed in and claustrophobic. We got two coats of primer on the walls and the blue is still showing through. So that looks like it’ll end up being quite a fun little project. (Ha.)
Then last night was the finale of Six Feet Under. There were a few scenes that made me sort of misty, but overall I was ok until the last 5 minutes. Then I lost it, and I cried and cried. And cried. For long after the show was finished. Such a great show, so sad that it’s over.