I’m not 100 percent sure what the lyrics to that terrible song mean, but I feel somehow it applies here. this happens frequently on theteet.
everything was going fine until Seth took me to Sunbury.
we were checking out this awesome shelf ladder at this antique store, and we stopped to grab a cup o joe at the village coffeehouse, where i accidentally caught a glimpse of ThisWeek and the BW News, and my life became instantly ruined.
first of all, mark major is reporting again. awkward. second of all, it’s thursday, and i have a Year in Review to finish on monday and i get this email that’s like “hi. ** rant censored for readers’ safety ** Suddenly I was knitting faster and faster with a furrowed brow all the way home to Bangs. Something is not okay.
Earlier in the week, Seth was caught off guard by my pleasant attitude. We are currently removing the gawdoffal textured stalagmite ceiling in the living room, which, as you can imagine, is a very tedious and terrible process. It involves holding a power steamer up to a 12″ x 12″ square above your head for 10 seconds, and then pulling down chunks of drywall and spackle into your eyes and teeth. repeat.
“You’re … you’re smiling.” he said, looking at his plaster-covered wife on the top rung of the ladder. “Is this what happens when you’re away from work?”
yes! this is what happens when I’m away from work! he’s a genius. I could have kissed him.
so, Jan. 1, I’m a blueberry farmer. or a textured ceiling remover. whatever.
and this time I mean it.
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