So the only place to store this washer that I’m stupidly renting a $40 pickup truck to bring home, is in our dining nook. Why did I do this? This whole thing is becoming such a big ordeal, and why does it cost $40 to rent a pickup truck for two hours? There are rusted trucks all over everybody’s front yard down here! WHY COULD I NOT HAVE USED ONE OF THOSE TRUCKS FOR THIS TASK? AND WHY DO I SUCK AT LOGISTICS?

I digress. While collapsing our sixty pound kitchen table that was built in the 50′s out of oak that is more solid than Zach Effron’s abs, it fell on my shin. I will repeat. Sixty pounds of wood fell on my shin. Directly on the shin. I intend to vigorously wag my pointer finger at that washer when I see it tomorrow.

From Daily Daguerreotype

As you can see from the photo, I got all but one leg off the table (lower left corner) because I am weak like a newborn kitten and could only find a pair of needle nose pliers. So this is my shoddy job that will have to wait until Matt gets home. Because I’m pretty sure after a 12 hour work day he’s going to be really interested in table leg removal for creating space for the new washer that he pretty much wishes I had not purchased.

*****************************************

In other news, we are going out to dinner tonight with friends. Yes, FRIENDS. Matt has promised not to burp at the table, and I will not admit to having a blog where I openly display my many, many flaws and mental issues. Really, that should be Issues with a capital I.

I will also try not to kiss her on the mouth and ask when we can have a girls night! And see Julie & Julia! And drink cabernet sauvingnon! And go shopping for bargains!

But that just might slip out.

Our new house comes with a complete set of appliances except for a washer and dryer. The hookups are located in the basement and we envision one day moving them up to the first floor’s mudroom to be on the same level as the master bedroom. Until that day I will be more than happy to haul down to the basement to do my laundry, especially with my brand new in-the-box Frigidaire front-loading washer!

I found it on Craigslist for $400 and knew it was a major steal. I had the previous model in our last Massachusetts apartment, so I was very keen on the brand. My favorite thing about these high efficiency front-loading washers is not how great they are to Mother Earth, but how great they are to your bras while washing on the “handwash” cycle. So I called up the friendly chap and promised him I’d be there an hour earlier than the guy who lives in Memphis and was sending over his buddy to buy it at 4pm. Score! I thought. I’m nabbing this steal of a washer right out from under a Tennessean! So I haven’t lost my Massachusetts pair! I might be turning into a friendly driver, but I’ll maintain my cutthroat Craigslisting!

Until we showed up to buy it, and it wouldn’t fit into the back of my Volvo wagon. I have never before wished more that I was a true Tennessean who would be driving a Ford F150 instead of a Volvo wagon! Luckily the seller was kind enough to take our money, give us a receipt, and allow us to pick it up on Friday with a rental pickup.

Which now leaves us with the predicament of where we will store this monstrosity until our closing on the 28th. We have absolutely no room left in our 600 square foot apartment, and our storage unit is jammed to overflowing. I am starting to think it would make a good bedside table for the next three weeks. No, that beeping isn’t my alarm going off – just the signal for the spin cycle!

Needless to say, Matt has put the kibosh on buying any more appliances until we’re into the house. BUT IT WAS SUCH A GREAT DEAL, BABE!!!! Like that humidifier we’ve got chillin in the closest!

This morning, after a wonderful 5 day visit from Matt’s parents, we hit the ground running with two 8am dentist appointments. For the people who want to feel better about themselves by judging us I will capitalize this next sentence. WE HAD NOT GONE TO THE DENTIST IN OVER THREE YEARS BUT LIED TO THEM AND TOLD THEM IT HAD BEEN TWO YEARS. I KNOW! SLICK MOVE!

Understandably, our jaws are aching with the agony of a 3 year overdue cleaning. Debbie, my sweet hygienist from Florida, just could not get over how great my teeth looked even after such an absence from the dentist’s chair. From the blood that was pouring out of my mouth you would have thought otherwise.

See, I have never had a cavity. Ever. And I have no better physical trait than my smile. The rest of me could be lost at sea, but I rue the day anything happens to my smile. I get it from my dad, the originator of the million-dollar smile that makes old ladies swoon. So with that in mind most logical people in my shoes would be very careful about their dental hygiene and be sure to visit the dentist every six months as prescribed.

Not me. I know that eventually they will take my x-rays and find a cavity which means a FILLING! And a NEEDLE! And so I carefully avoided going for the past 3 years with fear of what might be found… all the while increasing my risk for such a thing by my negligence. This crazy, bizarre way that my mind works… this is my normal, folks.

Well chock it up to me seeing the light or to the unbelievable warmth of my new Southern dentist, I went ahead and booked my next appointment for February. I figure this gives me no excuse for letting such a shameful amount of time pass between visits. Plus I got a free toothbrush out of the deal!

We’re sick of talking and thinking about miscarriage over here, but I wanted to give you the good news that my hormone count has dropped significantly, and if there was a secondary pregnancy, my body is dealing with it all well on its own – no need for a procedure. This is hugely wonderful news for the girl who will always remember this week as The Week I Had Four Needles Shoved In My Arms.

There were certainly some tough physical parts of this weekend, and then the awful moment that you’ll never forget if you’re a woman who is far enough along to really HAVE that moment. But the worst part was most definitely all those needles.

The midwife looked at me incredulously while I literally WRITHED on the table as the nurse prepared to draw my blood YET AGAIN. “Honey, you’ve been through much worse this week. This is a very small needle. If you keep breathing like that you’re going to hyperventilate.” Yes dear woman, but if you keep missing my veins I will pass out and seize in front of you.

Personally, my greatest victory this week was getting through all of the appointments without once passing out. That, and successfully blending in with the rest of Nashville’s female (actually, male too!) population with my heavily highlighted hair. Photos forthcoming.

We have one window in our bedroom, and I can’t tell you how much I wish there was no window at all. Come 5:15 every morning, the sun is blasting through the closed blinds onto our faces waking us up. As if that weren’t enough, the brightness of the bedroom at that hour leads Berlin into believing that it’s MORNING! And time to jump on the bed! And time to play! And growl at the cat!

I don’t think Matt or I have gotten a decent night’s sleep in the past week because of our early wakeup call. So last night before bed I decided once and for all to solve this dilemma. I didn’t even care that it WAS 11:30 pm, Matt was going to drive two nails into the wall above the window and wake up all of the neighbors or I was going to be a monkey’s uncle. Within minutes we had hung a green woolen Pendleton blanket over the window and it was suddenly dark as heaven! A complete eyesore, but delightful nonetheless!

I haven’t slept that well since walking the 3-day.

This morning Matt came over to kiss me and say goodbye before he left for work, and I was still curled up in the luxuriously dark bedroom. “I love you, hon. Enjoy the bat cave.”

The only thing that could make it better would be to have cute little fruit bats curled up in bed with me. And/or Christian Bale standing guard in his Batman regalia.

Last night Matt took about an hour away from the evening he needed to be spending in front of his computer writing transitional notes, to instead pack up and weed out in the basement with me. I had done everything I could do, but I just didn’t know what to do about all of those drill bits, and various and sundry saws, and a drill press? Really? Where did that thing come from? Where did any of those things come from? It’s kinda like finding a secret room filled with all sorts of strange obsessive objects that your husband has that you have no idea exist. But in a not-so-creepy-and-psycho kinda way.

There was the box of cassette tapes that he found from Jr. High and High School.

“Oh wow! Check out all these tapes, Priscilla!”

“Hun…”

“They need to go, huh?”

“Yes. Unless there are any good Eric Clapton albums from the 80s that I can listen to in my car on the drive to Tennessee.”

“Nope. I think you’ve got my only one in your glove compartment.”

“OK, Say goodbye and toss them.”

The JUNK that we hauled out to the curb last night in time for Trash Day was ASTOUNDING. And somewhat embarrassing. Judging by how quickly the treadmill went yesterday, I assumed most of it would be gone before the trash guys arrived in the morning. Oh! The treadmill! Here is the conversation about the treadmill when Matt called me around 10:00 am yesterday.

“So how’s your morning going, P?”

“Well, I’m about to list the treadmill on Craigslist. Think I could get $75 for it?”

“Oh hun! I dragged it out to the curb this morning before I left for work.”

“REALLY? …………… It’s gone!!! Wow. Our neighborhood never ceases to amaze me.”

“Wow! That’s incredible. Not even 2 hours later.”

So you can imagine why I was embarrassed, but didn’t feel too bad last night leaving the two bamboo rugs, a few stuffed animals, and a random canvas bag out by the trash instead of hauling them off to Goodwill. I was sure someone would take them before the trash guys arrived.

Which is why I really wanted to bring two of our three air conditioning window units out to the curb as well. First I called Colleen to see if she needed them.

“Nope, but I’ll sell them on Craigslist for you.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’d hate to leave you with these big old clunkers. I’ll just leave them on the curb with a sign. Someone will take them away.”

“You can’t just leave those outside. They’ve got chemicals inside that are very very bad for the environment. You can’t just let them go into a landfill. I’ll sell them on Craigslist and give you the money.”

“No, go ahead and try to sell them, but keep the money! You’re a saint ”

I’m pretty sure she’s also sleeping with Captain Planet.