Apartment 4 RentJuly 11, 2006
Okay, the condo is officially off the market. We're keeping it. Hooray! (Ohmygod, please let it get rented soon.)
Anyone want to live in a cute little place? You readers know it, love it, you know I loved living there: if any interest, or you know anyone who might be, send 'em over to my craigslist ad, wouldja? I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if this works, actually. You all are quite amazing.
Meantime, I've done all the stuff I didn't want to do -- starting with getting up. But I did that, and then I paid bills and dealt with Things. Now I have the day to myself. Me and my sisters, actually. Christy's going to be in a wedding, and she needs a red shawl for it. So we're going yarn shopping. Hoo boy. Yarn shopping, and I'm not buying. That's the best kind. And then later Bethany and I are going to take the dogs to the beach. I'm seriously digging this whole Must Go To The Beach Everyday thing. Clara has to get out and run and cramble with dogs every day or she would go a little stir-crazy, I think. (That's what it's called, by the way, what they're doing when they're chasing and chewing and mock-biting and knocking each other down and over: crambling. I think it was a roommate of Lala's who said that.)
So I have to go to the beach and watch the crambling. Poor me.
Also, the house is already clean, 'cause we had some folks over last night (Hi, new knitter Michelle!). I cooked. And it was good. Roast chicken with lemon and rosemary from the yard (hey, I forgot to brag about that), potatoes, and Not Your Mother's Green Beans from the new Moosewood (roasted pine nuts, shallots, and basil, yum). It felt like an easy dinner, and it was fun, and I didn't hate cooking.
Clara's on her couch (yes, she got one. Isn't that sad?) chewing on an allowed substance. Harriet is at my feet, dreaming about stealing all of Clara's bones. Miss Idaho is tucked up next to me on the people couch. I saw Digit run by earlier and he yelled at me as he went (he slept on my head all night). Adah is on top of the fridge, her new favorite place to sleep. (Yesterday Christy was standing in front of the fridge, looking at something on it, a picture perhaps, and suddenly screamed in terror as a face popped up RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER and said, "Mrrrwh?") And me, I'm going to.... dunno. That's a nice thing.