I think I should have a lane dedicated for my sole use on I-94. Also, immunity from any and all moving traffic violations. And a fund for things like Rice Krispie Treats and Nacho Cheese Doritos and Diet Coke. Gas would be good, too. Let me know if you are interested in donating to my cause.
(We are going to Minnesota this weekend.)
It’s just so freaking much driving. I don’t even want to think about all the TV I could watch or the crappy YA vampire fiction I could read or the mess I could create around my general couch-ish area, if I wasn’t going back and forth to Minnesota all the time. I HAVE IMPORTANT LAZING TO DO, PEOPLE.
And all this moving stuff is really getting in the way of my lazing.
Not my beer drinking though. Nope, that is in good shape. Beer is portable.
Don’t worry; I do not drink and drive. Nor do I condone drinking and driving in any manner. In fact, I was once offered a “road beer” by a former boss and I totally said no. I think the disgusted/incredulous look on my face indicated that I thought she should refrain as well. I am pretty much a superhero.
However, I do drink and clean. And drink and lay around. And drink and…drink.
Last night I drank and tried desperately to get a decent picture of Sappho, since I realized that we have exactly zero photos of her looking anything other than terrified or highly pissed. And she’s such a pretty cat! And I got a new iPhone that works properly last weekend! The experience went something like this:
Me, six inches from her face: Sappho? Sappho? Tsk, tsk, look over here, kitty.
Sappho: Let me look at you for a millisecond and then as soon as you try to push the camera button I shall move my head!
Me: Sappho! Look at me! Be still!
Sappho: Takin’ pikchures: yer doin’ it wrong.
Me: DAMMIT CAT, JUST BE STILL FOR A FREAKING SECOND! JUST ONE!
Finally I caught on to the game she was playing and was able to sync my cajoling with pushing the camera button at the right time and voila! My pretty kitty, looking at the camera and everything:
This weekend I’m going to drink and paint. As in, the three bedrooms in our new apartment that the previous tenants left painted spectacularly tacky neon-type colors. And dudes, I am serious when I say that I just don’t have a thing that goes with tacky neon. The 80’s are over and my ass is too big for those stupid skinny jeans anyway.
Did you know that they don’t sell beer – or any other alcohol – on Sundays in Minnesota? This worries me a little. I am not that excellent of a planner and Sundays without the possibility of booze is kind of sad. It’s a good thing I married a compulsive planner; Zack will keep us in beer, I am confident. And as for this weekend? We’ll be heading home on Sunday anyway.