Daphne’s gone. For people who don’t know us well, I’ve been telling them that she died. I know that’s horrible, but it’s easier than explaining the whole thing and being afraid that they’ll think we just gave up on her, which is the furthest thing from the truth. And to us, it’s a little like she did; she’s gone. But, we did all the right things: trainers, lessons, treats, stress-control, all of it. Nothing mattered, this neighborhood was too stressful for her, and she needed better. So, she got it. When we really started listening, from a dog’s perspective, it dawned on us, just how freaking loud it is here.
I always complain about the noise around here; I even wear noise-buffering headphones around the house a lot; but for a dog, it must be a thousand times worse. Constantly barking dogs; kids nonstop; lawn maintenance, seemingly every day. Of course, I could just be an eighty-year old woman, the kind who shakes her cane at those damn kids on her lawn, trapped in a young (?) woman’s body; or, it could actually be a damn loud neighborhood, in general. I’m not saying it’s a New York city street, but a quiet, tree-lined village, it is not. We have kids out till well passed dark, on lots of nights, and there is always, always, always, at least one dog having a nervous breakdown about something, within earshot.
Plus, our housing management company is so fucking cheap that they refuse to have the trees examined, despite the fact that four, count them four goddamn trees have fallen down in the past six months, on my block, alone. Thankfully, none of them have fallen into a house, or onto a person, but they figure, it’s more expensive to examine and trim them all pre-accident, than to just trim them post-fall, as it happens. I got this piece of information from the arborist that I demanded come to my house, because we have a sick tree that would fall into our kitchen. Anyway, this means that the chipper is out, in all its loud glory, a lot.
The thing that’s making her being gone a lot easier, at least on Bryon, is that he got to see how gleefully happy she was when she got there. He said she ran to the new family, the minute she got out of the car. Then, she discovered that she was allowed to push the door open, to her own yard, on her own. So, she kept doing it. And, doing it. And doing it some more, just running in and out, in and out, in and out, like a proud toddler playing, “look what I can do!” So, she’s pretty excited. She gets her own yard, and the freedom to use it as she pleases, in a quiet neighborhood. Perfect for her. Sad for us.
When I’m sad, I like to play “buy this, it makes the ouchie go away.” You may remember this game from such experiences as flares and depression. It works, but only in the short term. Shh, don’t tell Rachel; she tends to end up with lots of good stuff this way. But, this time, I roped Bryon into my game. How, I managed that, is beyond me, but we made a lovely day of it, and I can’t believe how much fun we had together. I was a lovely day-date. By the end of the day, we were exhausted, but blissfully happy, giggling, laughing and having quite a nice time together. It’s lovely when hiding from total sadness can turn into a romantic and glorious time, isn’t it? We had so many smooches that Collin screeched “ewww! Stop!” and “his tongue touched your mouth!” at us before running away. Sorry dude.
See, I’ve always hated our laundry room. Like, hated with a capital “H.” So, I guess I’ve always “Hated” our laundry room. It’s humungous. It’s at least twice the size of our master bathroom because our house was designed by morons with no sense of personal space. Most wives like to brush their teeth while listening to their husbands pee, or worse. And, because it’s where Daphne’s cage and food bowls were kept, it was a disgusting utility space, with zero style, and just a room I’d prefer to keep the door closed on. Yes, I know it’s a utility room, a place you keep your mops, but I always felt it was more blah than it had to be. Since her cage is the size of our master bathroom though, there wasn’t much we could do about it; and, because she drools so profusely, and her bowls are so large, there was no point in trying anything else. She was, essentially the utility room.
Alas, once all that stuff was out of there, I broached my ideas with the husband and told him, that, when he was ready, what I’d hoped to do in there. Surprisingly, because I said, “Criagslist,” or “the used furniture store,” he was game to look right away. Hooray for cheapskate husbands, and for knowing how to manipulate them into your ideas. Kidding. Love you, honey! But really, I didn’t want to spend a lot either. It is, after all, the laundry room. So, I showed him “expensive” pieces on Wayfair, to give him the general idea of what I wanted to do, and then I was off on the Craigslist hunt.
My ideas were to cover the damn hot water heater and heater with a curtain (easy – but waiting for one from Overstock, now). I want to get a new area rug for the room (done – waiting for my deal of the day, again from Overstock – hooray for President’s Day sales!). I also wanted to take down all the pre-installed shelves in the unit on the wall, and put up a cabinet of some type, preferably one with glass doors, to put our paper products in: toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, you know, “supplies.” I wanted to make ‘em look fancy. I’m thinking of putting my tampons in there too, just to shake it up a bit. Feminine hygiene should make others as uncomfortable as it makes me, maybe. The cabinet was the Craigslist shopping. I’d hoped to spend no more than $150 (more on that in a minute). And, I wanted to get some kind of bins for the un-foldables, in order to hide them. Martha Stewart claims you can fold sheets. She lies. Even if you can, I don’t wanna. No more “hacks” about fitting them into the pillow case, or any of that bullshit. I want to hide them.
I found a cabinet on Craigslist for $60. It was cool, unique and different, and it’d fit if we removed only two of our shelves, leaving us two shelves for storage. Hmm, intriguing. Sounds perfect. So, we go to this woman’s house, and before we pull up, I say, “I have to pee, do you think she’ll let me use her bathroom?” Apparently not, as she’s putting the piece of furniture onto the porch, so we don’t come into the house. Guess we’re not welcome into their home, which was fine, because you could smell her house from the street. From the literal street, like when you opened the car door. How lovely to be her neighbors.
Her boyfriend, brother, cousin, no clue; her man-person (?) was sweating profusely, despite the fact that it was not at all hot. An older woman was inside the door, which was obscured by a rusted metal ghetto-gate. But, the older woman was pretty keen on making the sale, despite the fact that it was obvious we were going to buy it; she kept making compliments about how wonderful the “piece” was. The poster was a very kind, but jittery woman, who was sort of hopping around the porch in a dance I like to call, “withdrawal.” Takes one to know one.
As soon as I handed her my sixty dollars, she handed it to another woman, who I shit you not, ran down the street with it, after a few whispered words. I’m pretty sure that I just bought either meth, crack or heroin. Not sure which, but I know I bought something unsavory. I’m also pretty sure that I bought the top of her grandma’s, or other family member’s hutch, because this was not a cabinet, but the top part of a larger piece of furniture. The poster told me, when I pointed it out, “yeah, I didn’t know furniture came that way until recently.” I felt like saying, “so how long have you been selling off your stuff, bit by bit? Can I buy your house?”
We had to put legs on it to make it work as a single piece of furniture; thankfully, my husband is so handy. It looks pretty good. It was also covered in spider eggs, and spiders, which had to be cleaned off before it could come inside. It’s also, literally, filled with air fresheners right now, as to wipe clean the smell of nicotine. My toilet paper will smell like apple cinnamon, but not regret.
It’s also got a lot of water damage to the back, so we’ll have to replace the back panels pretty soon. But, we’ve got plans for it.
And, one of the “fancy” pieces at the top is a little loose and needs some glue, but other than that, it’s not in terrible shape. It might need something to hold the glass in a little tighter. It’s probably something we’d not ever think of, except that we move all the time, and movers wreck stuff that’s not a million percent perfect. Actually, they wreck things that are a million percent perfect. Last time, they broke our headboard. Our mover, who said he’d been doing this for thirty years, said it’s the first time he’d ever seen a mover break a headboard. Glad to be a first. Some are the first on the moon. Some are us.
It’s exactly what I was looking for, frankly. I didn’t want a cabinet that looked like something everyone else can find at Target, or a more expensive version of what everyone else can find at Target. There’s enough furniture already out there, that’s decent enough, why buy something new? Buy something with some life left in it. And, you can’t beat the price of $60 worth of meth, right? About an hour after we picked it up, I got a follow-up text from Madame Meth, which said, “I hope you really enjoy the cabinet.” How sweet, right? She was so nice to follow up. She didn’t have to do that, and despite being kind of a trashy person, she’s not trash. Goes to show you that nice is everywhere.
But, the bins on the top were expensive-ish. They were $30/each at Cost Plus. You’d think everything in there should be cheap. I don’t go in there much, so I don’t really know, but it’s all warehouse-y in there, and they have cost in the name. Leave it to me to grab the expsensive-ist thing in there. Maybe Cost Plus means that it’s cost-y, plus some more! I should’ve known! I used to browse through one, occasionally, when I was early to class, back in Virginia, and I loved touching everything, but I didn’t really look. There was a peacock painted end table at this one, this time. I wanted it. Bryon said no because it was something like $500. I agreed. But, I still wanted it, nonetheless. Cost Plus equals needlessly expensive, perhaps? I say this because I also found a hamper that I wanted, and it was $100. I can’t bring myself to spend that on a receptacle for filthy clothes, can you?
I’m not showing you the curtain’ed off water heater/heater area yet, because it’s got an icky curtain right now, but Bryon rigged some old curtain rods up there and it looks, meh, but livable, better than looking at a heater! I’m so excited about this new “room.” We had so much fun planning it all out. And, I’m always impressed by my husband’s innate engineering ability. Meanwhile, I just stand there and watch, waiting for the time that I can step in to do what I can do to help, which is wipe down the cabinet with wood oil. Yay! I helped! I wiped!
We had so much fun, in fact, that we didn’t notice someone, that I’m not going to name (Loki) sneak into the new room, as we were working, and pee on a throw rug. Damn cat. Angry peeing! Perhaps, his hatred of the dog was all an act, and he’s devastated at losing her from the family. Or, he is just pissed that I moved his favorite throw rug from the hallway to the laundry room, temporarily. He used to like hiding underneath the rug, so that unsuspecting hall-walkers would think it was just a small bump, and they’d trip on a moving target, nearly dying. I’m pretty sure Loki is a minion of Satan; because, alternatively, he’d hide and then jump out at unsuspecting hall-walkers, giving them a heart-attack.
Can you tell that this family watches a lot of Friends? Collin speaks almost exclusively in Friends quotes now. I fear I have damaged him, socially, for life. Oh well....
Good life advice from a awesome literary woman...not so awesomely translated to film. Good movie, but not greatly represented from the book. Read it. Trust me.
Either way, now I have to throw out the rug. Stupid cat.