I did not have a great day today.
It started off well enough. I didn't have work today and that's always a good thing, right?
So, in all fairness, I did not have a good evening today. Let's rewind to...let's say about 3 o'clock. No, wait... I actually have to rewind back two days.
As you might have read in the previous post, I have been working on a little painting project in my living room. Well, it's coming along alright but it kind of stalled out and here is why. I picked this...um, mustardy yellow color for the walls. I know, mustardy yellow doesn't really sound appealing to me either but it's not that bad. I think it's called Golden Valley or something like that but, really, Golden Valley doesn't give you the same understanding of the color as mustardy yellow does, I think.
I got the walls painted and I was thinking it needed a little something else for some pizzaz. So I figured I could try the old world look and rub a stain over the paint. You see, I have plaster walls in my living room and they are all full of cracks and such. None of which I bothered to repair because this whole paint job was really more of an emotional thing rather than an actual home improvement where you get into doing the job right. All I wanted was instant gratification.
I should have known better.
So I bought my stain and figured I could just rub it onto the already painted wall, wipe it off, and all of the cracks would be accented just so.
I was wrong.
You see, even though my walls are full of cracks, it would seem that the stain doesn't necessarily understand what it's supposed to do. Hello, Stain? Crack. There.
Nope. It all just wiped right off. So...get this...I had to PAINT the cracks back on my wall with the stain. How crazy is that? I mean, if I didn't want the cracks to show, I'm sure they would be there glaring like the freaking crack of dawn! But no! Now that I want the cracks to show, no dice.
So, I paint all the cracks on. And I do the rub-it-in thing, trying to make my living room wall look like some villa in Tuscanny. And it turned out ok. For what it was supposed to be. And then I brought my hubby in to see what he thought.
Me: So, what do you think?
Hubby: What do you think? Translated: Hoo boy. I don't think I know the right answer to this question.
Me: Well, I guess it's what I was trying to do.
Hubby: Mmmmm... It looks good.Translated: I hope she's done asking questions.
Me: I'm just not sure if it fits the room or not.
Hubby: Yeah, that's what I think...I'm not sure either. Translated: If I get the next question right, maybe I'll get sex tonight.
Me: I was shooting for that "Old World" look but I just don't know if it fits...
Hubby: That's it! I was trying to place it and you just placed it for me.
Quiet time staring at the wall...
Hubby: It would look really good in a pizzaria.
So, I decided to paint it over. Luckily, I only painted one wall with the "Old World" look so I only had one to repaint. Unfortunately, I was out of paint. The next day, I went back to Sears to get another quart of paint and, wouldn't you know, they don't sell that kind of paint in quarts. So's I have to buy a whole gallon. Except I can't because, wouldn't you know, they are out of that particular tint base.
Fast forward to today.
Hubby decided to go skiing with the kids this afternoon. I, on the other hand, am of the opinion that if I want to freeze my patooty off, I can stay at home and do it for free. So I hatched a plan of sorts. I happened to have a $50 gift certificat for the Allentown Mall that's been hanging around since Christmas. I figured I could drop hubby off at the ski place and then go and spend my certificate. After that, I would go to the Sears in Allentown and maybe I could get another gallon of paint. And after that, I would kill some time at Borders because I LOVE BOOKSTORES! And then I would go to Friendly's and eat an ice cream while reading a book until it was time to pick up Hubby from skiing.
So that was the plan.
It all started to unravel just after we made the turn into the ski area. Once you turn off the road, it's about a quarter mile or so until you actually get to the lodge. We had only gone about 300 feet off the road when we spotted a chicken on the side of the road. A live chicken. Just doing chicken things. On the top of a mountain. In the middle of the woods. A chicken.
So I had to pull over.
It took us about 15 minutes, one bag of chocolate covered popcorn and a lot of strange looks from the folks coming to and leaving the ski area until we had the chicken. In the end, it was my Hubby's skillful weilding of a large stick that enabled him to squash the chicken enough for me to grab it.
Hubby: So...what do we do now?
Me: We take it home of course.
Hubby: I knew that.
We drove up to the lodge and Hubby stayed in the car with the chicken while I went in to try and score a box. I went to the ski store and asked a nice lady if she might have a box about so big as I gestured with my hands. She checked a back room and then another place and then another back room and finally came back with a box that was woefully inadequate. I said "Oh, thank you so much but that one is too small. You see, my husband and I found a chicken..." To which she cheerfully replied "Well, why didn't you say that to begin with?" And I'm thinking "Um, because you would think I'm a freak?" But I just laughed "Ho, ho...yes, a chicken..." And she went and found a suitable box for chicken transport.
I boxed up the chicken, kissed my Hubby goodbye and headed to the mall.
Now, for those of you who may never have had the chance to go to the Allentown Mall, or actually the Lehigh Valley Mall, it's one of the bigger malls in the area. It's got two whole floors of stores. Whoowee! I started on the second floor and worked my way around the mall, checking out the stores that I thought might have something I would like, and tried to make a decision. I ruled out clothes because I just didn't feel like trying anything on. I decided I would spend it on something that I normally wouldn't buy. I narrowed it down to a pair of boots (not really clothes, right?), a comforter for the bed and a nice ski jacket. Ok, so the jacket falls into the clothes category. And considering I just gave up an evening of skiing because I don't like to be cold, it probably doesn't seem like a wise choice. But maybe, just maybe, if I had a nice warm jacket in trendy colors, I would go skiing. Right?
Now, I've been hankering for a pair of tall black leather dressy boots for a few years now. I always have trouble finding ones I like because they have to look nice but also not hinder my ability to kick the crap out of an attacker or, at least, run away from an attacker of whom I failed to kick the crap out. Of. Oh, and they have to have a front made for people who's big toe is the longest toe, not the middle toe, like most women's footwear is these days. So, finally, after a really long search, I found a pair. And I really mulled this one over in my mind before I actually sent the shoe lady to look for my size. As luck would have it, they didn't have my size. They didn't have my size in the runner-up boot either. Finally, I picked one more and...nope. Ok, so no boots.
I went back to look at the jacket. I tried it on. I tried it on in a bigger size. I tried the other one on. After way too many minutes of this, I decided that, no, I don't need another jacket for not-skiing and I would go for the comforter instead.
Buoyed by my new ability to make a decision, I trotted off to Strawbridge's. I picked out the comforter - a lovely thing in a deep red color, so sexy, so chic - and carried it to the sales desk. They were having a huge storewide sale and I wasn't exactly sure if it was 40 or 50% off. The clerk rang it up and said it would come to $74. Not bad for a $250 comforter. And then I said "Oh, by the way, do you take mall gift certificates?" And she said "No, we do not."
With those four words she just stamped the last 3 - count 'em - 3 hours of my life with a big WASTE OF TIME stamp. I burst into tears and walked away, back to my car.
That still had a chicken in the back seat.
I jsut spent three hours in one of the largest malls in the area and could not spend $50. On anything. I am such a failure at being a girl.
I went to Sears and did manage to get my paint, but at this point in the evening, it was so late that I only had time to quickly go through the Wendy's drive thru - no Borders, no Friendly's - and go pick up my Hubby.
Just as I was heading out of Allentown he called.
Me: Hi. How was skiing?
Hubby: Ok. Some blood. But not on my head.
Me: Oh? Where?
Hubby: My arm. How's the chicken?
Me: Good enough. I mean, she's not dead or anything.
Hubby: Ok. Are you on your way?
Me: Yep. I'll see you soon.
So I picked up hubby and we headed home. We were pondering the circumstances that would bring a chicken to the top of the Blue Mountain and then decided that it must have been hiking the Appalachian Trail. Then we tried to think of a name for her. Hubby said it should have something to do with skiing so we settled on Suzie Drumstick. As in Suzie Chapstick. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
So we finally made it home and I carted the chicken inside. I let the two beagles out. I did a quick scan for Geri-dog, our old dog, in case he wanted to go out too. He, however, was sound asleep in the hallway. The whole time I'm thinking to myself "Man, it's really cold in here."
I went upstairs to take out my contacts and when I went to wash my hands there was no hot water. Great. The stoker went out. I told hubby and he went to have a looksey while I got changed into some nice, fresh cozy pajamas.
By the time I got back downstairs, Geri-dog decided that yes, he did in fact have to go pee and well why not just pee all over the floor instead of going out in the cold. I came down and found a small lake in front of the door.
Me: GAAAAAA!!!! Couldn't you wait two more seconds? You were fast asleep for cryin'' out loud.
All of this has little effect on Geri-dog because he's deaf. He just wags his tail, happy with his empty bladder.
I grabbed a bucket and sponge mop and mopped up Lake Geri-dog. Then I took the bucket in to our laundry room so I could empty it into the utility sink. I was just telling hubby to "Watch out 'cause this is going to be really gross" when the bucket started to topple.
Topple, topple, topple... I made a desperate attempt to grab it, got it upright, and then it slipped and landed SMACK! square on it's bottom in the utility sink. The force of the impact sent all the dog pee water into the air and then it came down, mostly on me.
And I just put nice, fresh, cozy pajamas on.
And I couldn't buy the comforter I wanted.
And they didn't have the boots in my size.
And I have a chicken in my laundry room.
Oh, yes, and the stoker is out. So, hot water for a shower? Afraid not.