Yesterday Jen and I started moving furniture around in preparation for Major Change. We’re having our new bed delivered on Tuesday, and we decided to prepare for it by emptying out the Cream room to make way for demolition (it’s the only room on the second floor without new electrical runs.) This involved moving her dresser out to the atrium, the bed into the living room, the other furniture to empty corners of the house, and scaring the cats out of their wits. We also cleaned off the front porch, which had become a junkpile/dustbin since before Christmas—I found our marriage license on the deacon’s bench under a pile of junk mail from December—and straightened up the rest of the house. I’m hoping we can get the electrical work in the bedroom done quickly (read: two or three weeks) so that she doesn’t grow sick of the arrangement and attempt to kill me in my sleep on our new bed.
We then got a call from the
godless heathens Cauzzis, who wished us a happy Zombie day, and asked if we could bring them some food. Never ones to let a good meal go to waste, we called
When we got back home, we spent about a half-hour attempting to stay awake until the Indian tryptophan took hold and knocked us out, but not before wandering aimlessly through the house trying to remember where we put everything.