Momnesia

Poop on Parade

So we moved to 1) escape the idiots threatening us because of my husband's job, and 2) have a bigger place. But in the process, we acquired a piano. We finally got more living space and then the Hulking Piano of Untuned Doom sucked it away!

Then Scott hung everything that we own on the walls this weekend and now it looks like we live in someone's Victorian sitting room. Freaking historical crap everywhere and I'm afraid to move anything because god knows when it might fall apart. The only good thing is that he finally hung his guitars on the wall so I'm not constantly knocking one over and hearing him curse about it!

Okay, that was a lot of unnecessary complaining. And it's not bad. If you like living in a museum of history... Actually, I do everything I can to mess up his plan. Like, I bought a Dia del Muerto/Frieda Kahlo collage piece from a local artist. It's going right on the piano. And I bought a bright green lopsided coffee carafe from a high school ceramics student that sits prominently on the equally bright yellow hutch in the kitchen. I never have gotten around to painting that darn thing. But the best part about the carafe is that it can't even be used to hold coffee because the interior wasn't glazed. It's basically a big useless super green box with a spout and a lid that doesn't fit properly. In my head, I call it my "sticks in the yard" piece, in honor of Dad's secret pastime.

The Saga of the Septic Tank at my parents' house may soon come to an end for Mom and Dad. I am so happy to hear that because I was about to tear my ears off and hide them in a box just so I wouldn't have to listen to the updates anymore. But I was afraid that someone might try to pantomime the story, and that would just be wrong.