Unplayed Piano

I’m going to warn you: the channel we’re tuned to around these parts is “All Moving, All the Time” and if that bores you (and I can’t say I blame you), might I direct you to the blogroll on the right? Start at the top and work your way down and let them entertain you! Or better yet, go make pickled carrots. That’s where I’m off to next, in fact. Batch number ten, it calls to me.

So … Lindsey took the house, so thank you all (I wish I were exaggerating when I tell you that I think it’s all your doing, for reals). I have a signed lease, a security deposit and various and sundry rental agreement items. Which means, oh holy shit, we’re actually out of here as early as Feb. 27. And we HAVE to be out of here March 1. OMFG, y’all. I’m signing MY lease tomorrow on the most delightful 19th century farmhouse on two acres within walking distance to the gleaming metropolis of downtown Small Town Vermont. With all eight people who live there or whatever. Also, “delightful” is entirely in the subjective eyes of my husband, as I haven’t set foot in it, nor have I, again, set foot in this particular area of Vermont. Am ballsy, I like to think, but I’m guessing the word for it is “stupid and blinded by love and a desire to leave Florida.”

It does have a sunroom, though, see?

Also, they’re leaving their piano for us, which excites and scares me, because I have this strange and extraordinarily unrealistic vision of trying to pick it up by myself and dropping it down the stairs, despite the fact that it’s on the first floor.

All of this is, by the way, in the words of our darling tenant, Lindsey, “a colon moment,” as she put it when she walked out the door realizing that between the three of us, a lot of shit has to be packed and moved and yes, we are sort of holding our bowels together, it’s true. There is so much to be done, I can hardly see straight, but lo, we’ve packed up two whole rooms and the laundry room! That’s something, right?

Lindsey, by the way, said something about us being Democrats and supporting Obama and when I said that yes, she was mostly right, she POINTED TO MY HAIR and said, “Well, I figured with that hair.”

I have Democratic hair, did you know that? I EXUDE Democrat from the neck up. It must be the pink streaks.

I … I want to do something for all of you. Like buy you all Segues or keep you in Bare Minerals for the rest of your lives, but I can’t afford to do that, so … is there anything you want that’s free or thoughtful in the “free” sort of way? Can I TELL you anything you’ve ever wanted to know? I mean, I promise to answer any question except for my last name and my exact address. Not that the former matters that much, but … well, whatever, Google, you know. And that is the lamest offer I’ve ever made, but I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO FOR YOU PEOPLE.

I love you and I would kiss you all on the lips if I ever met you. Does that help? Sadly, I’m not joking. I have nice lips, and I’m a good kisser. It should be something to look forward to.

Sunny, by the way, has been a big help with the move, if by “help” you mean following us around under our feet and barking angrily at the boxes, because they don’t BELONG there, and they weren’t there YESTERDAY and that box! It’s going to SWALLOW YOU WHOLE!

Also, hey, look, I’m sorry: I threw away my wedding dress. I’m not particularly proud of this, but my options are limited, given the less-than-17-day nature of this particular operation. I cut out a reasonable swath of it for posterity — and also to ensure that yep, ah, it’s completely ruined, sorry — and it’s currently sitting in our giant Waste Management receptacle, awaiting what will surely be the world’s largest garbage dump on Tuesday

And finally, I am on the hunt for a new gynecologist in Vermont and honestly … they all have accompanying photos and they all scare me. Their photos vary from the not-so-vaguely homicidal to Sam Shepherd in “Baby Boom” without the hot vet factor and I … I’m scared, really. I don’t know if I feel like sharing the vast idiosyncrasies of my wonky menstrual cycle with a guy who looks like he’s about one second away from doing that whole lust killing in Se7en. And I can’t really wait, so ah … pray for me.

I hope y’all have a wonderful Monday. I, for one, will kick off my day getting my car registered, because I got pulled over for a bum registration on Friday night and I’m lucky I didn’t get it impounded.

I should also tell you that I am now terrified of moose. There are MOOSE in Vermont, you know. I’ve never lived with moose before, and I’m scared they’re going to eat my pants in my sleep or I’ll hit them with my car.

Also, hey, a question: for those of you who have your own hosted URL, who do you use to host it? We’re currently hosting this on our own server, but are planning to get rid of it in favor of outsourcing it …

I’m tempted to close with “XXOO” because that’s kind of how I’m feeling about the Internet lately, but I’ll refrain. Sort of …

Happy Monday to you!

*Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan

37 comments February 10th, 2008