It's Sunday night and I'm writing tomorrow's post now, because I'm off to Ned's tonight due to paint. We painted my dining room ceiling, finally, after scraping it and sanding it and priming it and marking it with a B. Then we also painted my bedroom ceiling a way-too-dark-blue today, as well, after scraping it and sanding it and oh, you get my drift. The point is, it smells paint in my room and I don't want to sleep in there.
Several years ago, Marvin and I went to visit his grandmother in her assisted living place, which she always called The Institution. Have I ever mentioned to you that I loved Marvin's grandmother? She was da bomb. The point is, there was a big wall outside that was cordoned off, with a giant "Wet Paint" sign. One poor old lady was standing right in front of it and asked, "What smells paint?"
From then on, it was kind of Marvin's and my thing to say when something was obvious, kind of like my "right then I knew" story about the San Francisco earthquake.
Anyway, I'll tell you what smells paint, and it's my room. So I'm hanging out here in my house o' toxins till about 10:00, then I'll let the dogs out to pee for the last time and leave for the night. I feel sorry for the pets having to breathe in all these fumes, and I hope it doesn't affect Edsel's sharp mind.
Also, poor Iris walked on the damn dropcloth and got blue paint on her tail. I'm like Paul Bunyan with her Big Blue Cat. In general the whole house is chaos. Speaking of Iris, this weekend she came in through the screen door going, "CHHHHHZZZCCHHHHH," which is not a sound a cat generally makes, in case you're, you know, not a cat person. "CHHHZHCCCHZ" went her lips, and I was all, Is Iris trying to pronounce a Polish name, or...? Turns out she brought in a still-living cicada, which was pretty quiet. Ned had to remove it from her lips and take its mime self back outside.
The POINT is, we feel like we're finally done effing painting, a thing we've done on and off each weekend since June, which has made us hate our lives not at all.
In other news, thanks for all the advice about Ned and me moving into that rental house, and remind me never to come right out and ask for advice again. What I loved was all the "Ima give you advice you didn't ask for" advice. "Say, June, you asked whether to get that place or not, but let me guide you to a whole nother choice. Let me give you advice on whether you should be with Ned at all. Let me give you stock tips."
The people who owned the place said they remembered why they laid down carpet in the first place, and that was because there was termite damage, which, Price is Right losing horn. So the search continues. The search continues with NO MORE ADVICE PLEASE THANK YOU WHAT SMELLS PAINT.
Also, Ned and I went out this weekend with one of the Alexes from work, and her boyfriend Shoulders, and also my work husband Ryan.
We all went to this play thing. These local actors met up for the first time Saturday morning, and they spent all day together and wrote a play. Then at 8 p.m. they performed it for anyone who wanted to come. Yes, it kind of sucked, but it was an interesting experiment. Afterward, Ned and I insisted upon getting something to eat, and Mr. and Ms. Perfecto Americanos, up here, did not order anything. My theory is they are not actually human.
Afterward, we all went to Alex's new apartment, which is very cute and she is way more grown up than me (note the crock pot. She's 27 and already owns a crock pot. The only reason I have a crock pot is cause I needed one to make meatballs for Edsel's neutering party four years ago).
I had better get over to Ned's so I can go to bed. Not that way, ya perv, I mean in the for-real, going to sleep because it's a workday way. Before I go, I have some fascinating action shots to show you, though.
Ned and I have been watching the 7 Up series, which I've seen before but he hasn't. In 1964 in London, a documentary filmmaker interviewed several kids who were 7 years old, and every 7 years he goes back and interviews them again. So the documentaries are 14 Up, 21 Up, etc. We're now at 56 Up, which was filmed last year, and they're really interesting to watch. The point is, I was watching one this weekend and you can't watch a movie without popcorn, and what do you MEAN Alex probably doesn't and that's why her waist is 12 inches around?
The point is, I gave some popcorn to the dogs and Ned took action shots and here they are.
We started out with both dogs, but of course Edsel lost interest because he lacks focus, and also because most kernels bounce off his underbite and Talu gets them anyway. And you can judge me all you want re that filthy kitchen floor. We've been PAINTING. What do you want from me?
P.S. You guys pretty much wrote this week's Purple Clover article. I'd love to split my fee with you, but I don't want to.