Jen and I joke that every year we make a list to do a certain number of specific things to make ready for the parade, and every year we wind up doing something completely unrelated to that list, and then scramble at the last minute to complete everything we originally intended to do. (Sometimes this is entirely my doing, but sometimes we are co-conspirators), This year, we decided to re-arrange the office around a new shelving unit, which meant moving a heavy three-drawer file cabinet and two bulky flat files to the other side of the office.
Preceding any completion of housework, I filled up the Scout Saturday morning with a final load of yard waste and construction debris and narrowly skirted self-immolation courtesy of a leaky gas tank (more on that here). Once that drama was over, we continued cleaning around the house until the girl awoke from her nap, and then it was time to run to the IKEA in White Marsh to purchase a shelving unit. Finn was content to bounce around in the backpack for one half of the trip, and then she rode in the cart through the Marketplace, flirting with the other customers and making friends while we browsed the as-is section and wrestled 150 lbs. of shelf onto a dolly.
Once home, we put her to bed and grilled some kabobs before doing battle with the allen wrench. We (well, I) failed to properly read the assembly directions for the shelves and made an hour’s worth of work into three. Sorry, Jen.
Sunday morning, after making some adjustments and leveling off the unit, we filled the shelves with three tons of printed material previously stored in various areas around the house, thus consolidating 90% of our design resources in one place.
Sunday afternoon we were invited to a family crab feast (thanks, guys!), and Finn played happily on the floor while we got elbow-deep in Old Bay and Harpoon Summer Ale. I would share pictures here, but they came out all blurry.
Just chillin’ in my jumper. What’s up y’all?
HOLY SHIT. Michael Jackson is DEAD?
This morning I screwed up my courage and drove the Scout into work because the forecast is 90° and sunny. I haven’t had time to change the fluids or replace plugs and wires, so she still runs rich and stinky, but she runs and that’s good enough for me. I had a brief moment of fear when I drove up to the “maximum height” sign at the entrance to the garage and realized I could touch it with my fingers, but the windshield cleared it with about six inches to spare.