Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes
Saturday was a day I’m just not ready to talk about in any sort of coherent fashion. We have a list of summer house projects about six miles long, so Saturday was supposed to be our fun day, while Sunday was the work day. We were going to have a fancy waterfront lunch on a nearby island! Hooray!
Except: no hooray. In summary, we got bad directions from Google Maps, drove four hours (yes, four. No, I don’t know how we did it exactly, it just happened) to the completely wrong place, and ended up on the bitter, isolated tip of what appeared to be the wild west. I don’t really don’t know what else to say except that I didn’t know such places existed except on television. I didn’t know there were that many people missing teeth, limbs and… and… PANTS, for chrissake. Yes, there were pantless, limbless people all over the place, and … I don’t know even know where to go from here. Honestly, it was like Deliverance meets Boxing Helena. We were afraid to get out of the car, and when we did get out of the car to get a map (dear God), I swear I heard a record scratch to a grinding halt as people stared and marveled that my God, we were wearing pants! Look! And were those teeth in our heads? Actual, live teeth?
I’m just shaking my head and cringing and beside myself at the moment, remembering the completely unembellished horror. I don’t even know what else to say except that we were starving and exhausted and sweaty, and after one failed attempt at stopping to get lunch (half the bar appeared to be packing sawed-off shotguns in their pants), we ended up at one of those terrifying country all-you-can-eat buffets, which was the only well-lit, safe-seeming location (near a Wal-Mart, of course), where I picked at day-old brussels sprouts and plucked shreds of sauerkraut from around some sort of mysterious potted meat food product.
When we finally arrived home, we walked the dog and promptly passed out from exhaustion. It was 5 p.m., and we’d been gone since 10 a.m.
Anyway, it’s over, but it shall live on in our minds for a long, long time to come. I’m still…well, I’m still shuddering.
Moving on. The Nielsen experiment, Day Four: Winterwheat was right. Every single channel change becomes an existential crisis. Adam’s found himself turning on CSPAN while he works, so that he’s not obligated to record the hour that he was on a conference call and forgot to change the channel, leaving The Bold and The Beautiful to quack away in the background, because God forbid, he comes across as a soap watcher (which he isn’t). Instead, he’d rather come across as the type of person who enjoys watching long, complicated Senate hearings.
For my part, I’m embarrassed to admit that I had to write down that hour from 7 to 8 a.m. when I zoned out with a towel on my head, watching Jessica Simpson shill for Proactive. Although honestly, after gazing at it for 45 minutes, I was ready to plunk down my money for whatever super-special mask they’re hawking this week, and that would have been so, so much worse.
And finally, we bought a Hoover FloorMate this weekend, and it’s honestly the most exciting thing to happen to us in a long time. Pearly clean tiles without kneepads! Amazing! The fact that I am genuinely jazzed about this speaks volumes to the quality of our life this hot, humid summer where I haven’t–not once–brought my new, semi-toned body out in a bathing suit, because it’s too damn hot. This is not, by the way, our first FloorMate–about a year ago, I went through a Freecycle phase to offload some stuff, and lo! one of my takers was giving away a FloorMate. We met, I took her FloorMate, she appeared totally normal and healthy, and three days later, she died. Freakiest thing ever–her husband sent out a mass e-mail, not realizing that hundreds of Freecycle strangers barely knew her were also on the list, and it was just so CREEPY. I haven’t been able to use that FloorMate since, as it belonged to a dead person, and it could have been haunted! The haunted FloorMate! Okay, fine, yes, it was ultimately broken, which is very likely why she was Freecycling it, but still! I was using the FloorMate of the recently deceased, and none too happy about it. I’m thankful that this one is untainted by the blood of the dead.
(I know that’s not rational, and look, I’m so sorry she died, it freaked me nonetheless. The FloorMate of the dead!)
Separately, but related, did you know if you buy an item with a damaged box and ask about it, the fine folks at Target will give you 20 percent off? Just casually mention it, and whoosh! Twenty percent gone. I was asking if we’d have trouble returning it, as it was the last one and rather banged up and just like that! LIKE THAT! Twenty percent off my FloorMate. Also, in random advice, I cannot say enough about the magic of epsom salts, for it healed Sunny’s irritated paw in less than two days. I was thisclose to taking her to the vet, but four to five soaks in an epsom salt sink, and voila! Perfect paw. Don’t say I never gave you anything.
I hope your weekend was great, and that you have a delightful Monday. Oh, oh! Because so many of you know so much: any idea on how to clean grout? Like honestly clean grout that was once white-ish, but is now, um, black-ish gray? Not that I would know what that looks like, but if I DID know, I will say that it’s not my fault–the previous owner left it that way! I swear! (I hope! I hope!)
*Jimmy Buffett. I don’t know why, either, but I have an entire ALBUM. Cheeseburger in Paradise! It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere!
22 comments July 8th, 2007