Does it bug you how often your computer allegedly needs updates? Seriously, why do they need updating this much? Did you do such a bad job at the LAST update?
New people moved in next door, did I tell you? (…This has nothing to do with computer updates. I just had the update annoyance when I sat down to type you. My computer popped up that little rectangle: YOU NEED TO UPDATE! Your mother. I’m busy.)
The person who lived next door when I first moved in was a delight. She was charming, she was quiet, she was neat. But then they sold that house out from under her and the new people who bought it seem lovely, actually. But they have a dog.
When I first moved here, and I realize I keep saying that, but when I first moved here, I was already all, ugh, chainlink fence. But it wasn’t till my actual moving day that I noted the ONE side was not even chainlink, it was this sort of flimsy wire. And technically it isn’t even my fence on that side, it clearly belongs to the house next door.
This is fascinating, June.
The guy who owned this house also owned the house next door, and I was kind of worried he’d go ahead and sell the next-door house and he did. And I worried the new people would have a dog and they do. She looks like an Australian cattle dog to me, which Edsel is as well, 12%, now that I am intimately familiar with his DNA.
And does that help him get along with that dog? Their shared DNA? It does not. So far he’s only seen her from the back door, but he had 29 fits and may have even called her cattle-ass.
Anyway, that dog is a sweetie sweetie pie of sweet, and I realize I am always the one with the asshole dog, and the point is Lowe’s is coming Friday and not Friyay to give me an estimate on a fence. Which I am assuming will be a million dollars, but I literally have no choice to at least put up something beyond Flimsy Skirt Whippoorwill of a Hint of a Fence that will do nothing to stop Eds from murdering that sweet cattle dog with his bare hands.
Meanwhile, the neighbor and I have a dog-exchange deal to not let our dogs out at the same time. Just now I was enjoying the birds singing in the back yard and admiring my budding trees,
when I heard motion in the ocean, or alternatively the neighbor’s back door. So to speak. Anyway, I did a shrill, EDSEL COME and we got in and moments later I saw that sweet cattle dog out back. The neighbor was clearly sort of moving the door handle so I knew it was time. They told me the dog’s name and I promptly forgot it and I asked again what her name was and I’ve forgotten it again. I’m a delight.
They’d lived in the apartment complex right up the road, so this dog has never had a yard before, and so far she has no concept of playing. She is sort of standing there aghast that she has all this space and isn’t on a leash.
I spend too much time thinking about the dog next door, I know.
Let’s move on. Ima have to put that fence on a credit card. You know that. Right? I have no fekking choice. [UPDATE SO I DON’T HAVE TO KEEP HAVING THIS CONVERSATION: I have no credit cards. I will have to use a Lowe’s or a Home Depot card.]
Meanwhile, I’d arranged a few months ago to get my chair recovered. I worked with a woman I’ll call Jeanne, who recovers chairs in her spare time, and she gave me a great deal. She can only do it on weekends, so Ima be Chairless Joe for a bit, but that’s fine. As you can see, this chair was in bad shape, and I adore this chair, and say “chair” one more time, June.
I’d been waiting for her to have more time, and yesterday I got a text:
Anyway, it turned out she was able to come yesterday evening, so I screamed to the fabric store first because she mentioned, oh, “fabric” and I was all shit. I haven’t gotten any fabric.
I’d picked out the …fabric months ago, but didn’t buy it then. I knew exactly where it was in the store. So yesterday I headed out there, to the fabric of our lives, and I went 52 years not ever stepping foot in a fabric store except for when my gramma would occasionally drag me into the Joann Fabrics and I wish I’d say fabric more often.
Anyway in the past year I’ve been haunting these stores like I’m Betsy Ross.
I got there and headed straight for the bolt I’d chosen months ago. I bolted for it, if you will, and?
Careful readers will note the LAST time I was recovering a chair, the owner of the store told me to get anything but silk because of my pets, and every single piece of fabric I was attracted to was silk, and why am I such a fekkup?
So then I spent an inordinate amount of time looking for alternative fabric. Opposite fabric. Opposite marriage. Remember when that little Miss America candidate said that? Opposite marriage. What an idiot. As opposed to someone who picks out silk.
The point is, I settled on either a giant hot dog or a sort of rough purple-y pink, and I took a swatch of my other chair’s fabric to make sure they look good together and when did I get so middle-aged.
Then I swear to GOD, I was sitting in my house afterward with a can of raspberry lime fizzy water, looking at m’phone, when I got a text from Jeanne saying, “I’m on my way” and I HONEST TO GOD thought, On her way to do what?
What is wrong with me? I still had fabric in my hair and a giant hot dog in my car and I’d already forgotten. Maybe that dog next door is named Jeanne.
Anyway, here’s my forlorn corner with the chair gone, and yes, the paint DID peel from my moulding or whatever it’s called. I saw it sort of bubbling and started peeling it one day because I’m 7 years old with a memory issue. Should I just get rid of the white and have the natural wood on the trim? It’s the original moulding from 1932. Also, THIS WEEKEND. That dresser gets painted white THIS WEEKEND. I also bought new handles so it’s not ransom note dresser anymore.
Anyway, which I already said, but anyway, that was my day, and I headed to my old theater last night to see The Goonies, which was a stupid movie, but I regret so much not going to see Philadelphia Story there in February that I went anyway. Also, Dear World: Stop talking and looking at your phone during the goddamn movie.