RedsRoom

Final Fantasy

“They came out with another Tactics game for the DS.” {in a very excited, ‘I cant wait to get my hands on it’ voice}
“Whats that?”
“The game I was playing while you were in labor with the kid and this baby.”
“Oh. So does this mean I have to have another baby so you can play the new one?”
{dead stare}

2510 comments June 29th, 2007 Edit

A ferocious Beast

The other day my husband and I battled a ferocious beast. It was so horrible I had nightmares about it the next day. It all started when I went into the laundry room to reheat what was in the dryer so I can fold it all hot while watching my Law and Order finale’s. There it was not even two feet next to me and I swear it was the uglyest beast I have ever seen. Worst than the one I saw in College that the experts couldn’t even identify. We used to call them Rodney bugs because they were typically found in the Rodney dorms and they looked like a cross between a roach and a cricket and some other bug. That was so long ago.

The beast I found sitting silently in my laundry room was a big old nasty spider. It was sitting facing downward on a nicely folded blanket that I use to curl up infront of the TV with. I know it was waiting for me to get closer and attack me. That thing was vicious and absolutely ready to invade my home. It probably was calling its troops as I looked at it and screamed at the top of my lungs and backed away from it without taking my eyes off of it. The husband jumped up from his computer desk so fast it was amazing. He reacted as if I lit my hair on fire and couldn’t stifle the flames.

He asks me what happened and I tell him there is a humongous spider in there. I am jumping and cringing and getting all the heeby jeebies just telling him about it. He looks into the laundry room and he immediately freaks out. I am sure he was expecting one of those typical spiders that you find around the house that are not as scary in comparison and seem pretty easy to get rid of. But, nope. This one was big and hairy and grosser than the scene where Ben Stiiller gets his face squished on a hairy mans sweaty chest in “Along Came Polly”.

I immediately run for the camera to take a picture of it. The husband runs to the garage to find something to catch it with. It’s amazing how different our first instincts are. I go to take a picture while R digs for a tree trimmer and a clear box. R’s intentions were quite obvious but I had to get this picture. I had to show my bug expert and ask her what it was and WHY THE HELL WAS IT IN MY HOUSE??!! My poor friend has had to experience all my bug woes over the years but I think this time both R and I entertained her quite well.

I send the picture to my friend and call her. While we are on the phone R and I try to come up with a strategy on how to get it out of our home. My friend tells me that this is not a bug to fuck around with it, that we should just get rid of it. She goes on speakerphone while we gear up to battle the beast. We argue over who is going to nudge it and who will step on it. I could swear that for a good 10 minutes this was going on. And of course, the bug expert is on the line listening to us bicker at each other.

“You know I can’t go near spiders.”
“What? Neither can I.”
“Yes you can, your just making that up.”
“I was the one who found it, you get to kill it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Yes it is.”
“We should capture it and study it.”
“What the hell for? Its big and disgusting and it has to die.”

So the husband holds the tree trimmer firmly and I am trying to hold the flashlight steady because you know by now the damn thing moved into the dark folds. I try to back away as far as I could in the room and R just kept pushing me forward because it was my job to step, capture or keep an eye on it. Whichever was needed. So as R is poking and prodding the hairy monster, it moves. It keeps moving even after we were able to get parts of it off. R started to beat the blanket and it finally stopped moving. It was in a whole bunch of pieces, on the blanket that was now on the floor. All while R was doing his thing with the tree shears I am squealing and freaking out and I actually believe R was too. You would have to ask my friend that was still on the speakerphone listening to our episode of “how not to kill a spider”.

After the massacre we carefully looked at all the pieces of that nasty monster on my beautiful blue snuggle blanket. R asked me what we are going to do with it and I immediately say,

“We are going to throw it out.”
“How are you going to get it off that blanket?”
“Are you kidding me, I’m not going to touch that thing again.”
“You mean your gonna throw the whole blanket away?”
“You bet your ass I’m throwing it away. Unless you want to sleep with it again?”
“Ill go get you a bag.”

It took a lot of maneuvering and a bit of bravery to get the bag over the blanket without touching anything. I did get that whole blanket in there and its ready for the garbage men to take the spider to its final resting place.

R and I went back to our computers. There is nothing like some couple bonding.

10729 comments May 26th, 2006 Edit

Our future is comfortable

The whole ordeal with our bed is now over. We finally did get our box springs. The bed is quite firmer than our last and we tried to get a comfort exchange. That didn’t work out and we decided to stick with it. R figures it just needs to be broken in. Although we went through hell and back to get these low profile box springs, the bed still seems very high to me. I am thinking of getting a step stool for my side of the bed or I am going to have a far fall one of these days. Even though I may break my head open trying to get on and off, I am very happy we made the switch to a king.

There is quite a change from a queen size to a king size. It’s an enormous 18 inch difference from one side to the other. Sleeping in the bed, with my husband beside me, I have made a few observations. These statements do not mean I don’t love my new, huge and comfortable bed. It will just take some time to get used to.

When I want to reach over in the middle of the night and scratch R’s back, I have to really reach over. Sometimes I even have to go searching for him.

Making the bed makes you feel like you are making the whole state of Texas, it’s so big.

I now sleep with 3 pillows. I have a new king size pillow I put behind my 2 regulars and the big fat 22 pound cat sleeps on the big pillow. Now he doesn’t purr on me or lick me all the time. I just get a nice, gentle vibration.

I can’t see my clock at night. I have to dig through the pillows to get to my nightstand.

The phone, which is now on R’s side of the bed because of electrical difficulties, seems likes it’s a mile and a half away.

All three of the cats can sleep on the bed without infringing on the others’ territory.

We can sleep with all three of the cats without feeling like we are going to fall off the bed.

R still creeps onto my side of the bed, but it takes longer for him to get there.

I am dying to have our little guy crawl into bed with us and snuggle in the mornings.

There is just way too many pillows between our normal pillows, the 2 new king pillows, my body pillow and all the decorative pillows.

I feel like if I turn on the fan it’s going to chop off my toes.

But no matter what, I still love to climb into R’s side of the bed after he leaves. I guess with any size bed I will do that.

1 comment May 8th, 2006 Edit

Lost in translation

Around the house, I am typically the one that fixes things. If the door closes wrong, I am the one to adjust it, if a drawer gets jammed, I am the one that unjams it. I put up the hardware and I have more mileage on the power drill than my hubby. I guess you get the idea, right?

The past few days I have noticed a little ‘stuffage’ in our downstairs toilet. That bathroom is not typically used so I have put the soft toilet paper in there to try to get rid of it. It turns out that the super soft, ultra thick, you can jump off the top of a building and land on it safely toilet paper is really bad for your pipes. After all the sewer and plumbing issues I have witnessed, I listen to my plumber like he is the leader to my cult. Scott brand, regular toilet tissue is all we will use in this house. However, I do have some leftover soft stuff so I try to place it wisely. I just can’t bear the thought of just tossing all of it.

Last night I mentioned the stuffing that I have noticed in the bathroom to R. I told him to be careful with the toilet paper because it seems like that toilet doesn’t take it so well. I even pointed to the door of the water closet since we were sitting in the room it adjoined.

Today R worked from home, so he got up pretty late and ran downstairs just in time for work. He typically doesn’t bother me and lets me sleep in the mornings. During breakfast this is the conversation I had to endure:

“The downstairs toilet is stuffed up.”
“It is? Did you use it?”
“Yea.”
“Didn’t I just tell you last night not to use that bathroom?”
“You meant THAT bathroom?”
“Uh, YES! I pointed right at it.”
“Oh, I thought you meant the upstairs bathroom.”
“What?”

{Short pause}

“Why did you even use that bathroom.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You blow dry your hair in our bathroom and I never wake up.”
{confused stare}

So I spent all morning with J searching Target for a $120 plunger. (well that includes a few extra items)

223 comments April 26th, 2006 Edit

Where is my sleep

I have yet to have a good nights’ sleep all on my own these days. There are many factors that feed into this never ending peril of my life. First, and probably the most important is that I really don’t feel like going back to my Rheumatologist who will prescribe me with my itty-bitty perfect pill. It’s not a sleep aid or an antidepressant. It’s just a small dosage of a little bit of heaven. I just don’t feel like being poked and prodded and x-rayed and tested and anything else a doctor can do to rule out everything in the book except for my condition. One day I will go, when I get THAT desperate. Maybe I am, I just don’t know it yet.

These are the environmental conditions I have to live with that prevent me from my beauty rest:

1. My husband has taken up the Olympic sport of snoring. In the 13 years that I have known this man, he has never been a snorer. Yea, a little heavy breathing and maybe a snore here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good smack in the head or a shove off the bed.

2. We have a 22-pound cat, Andre, which thinks he is still a kitten. Not only does he think he is the cutest, most adorable thing, he thinks he is small enough to sit above my head on my pillow. So every night when I am about to dose off into my slumber land, he makes himself comfortable at the top of my head. Paws in my face, smooshing my nose or in my ears. His cold wet nose always winds up somewhere very uncomfortable and his whiskers tickle anything they touch. If that isn’t bad enough, his purr is as loud as a lawnmower. Maybe even louder. I am surprised it doesn’t wake baby J sometimes. If the sound of the purr doesn’t keep me awake, the vibrations of my head do.

3. My little 12 pound Oscar likes to sit by my feet but he doesn’t seem to bother me too much. What does bother me is that we now have the worlds’ cutest cat, ChoCho, in the house but he is one bad motherfucker, I’ll tell you! He likes to sit on me or very close to me. If he can’t because one of the other two sweet cats are nearby, he will get his way by hissing and smacking. If that doesn’t work an all out war will be declared on my side of the bed. And if I kick them off the bed or out of the room, the bombs start to drop anywhere else in the house. Sometimes I do hear something break and I actually have to get up to clean it.

4. If ChoCho isn’t threatened by one of the other two cats, he will just climb onto me and start to dig his head into my armpit. That means he wants treats. He will do that until I reach into the drawer and give him the exact amount that he wants.

5. The house is always too warm for me to sleep.

6. R always steals the blankets.

7. R always seems to find his way to the center of the bed and leaves me with about 5 inches of space to sleep in.

8. R steals my body pillow, which has been a sleeping staple for me since I was in college.

9. R decides that 3 am is a great time to get it on. Um, not.

10. I start to think. (This is a bad one) Sometimes Ill be so mad at R for the fight we had while he was sleeping that I wont be able to sleep at all. And of course Ill need to confront him in the morning. You should see his face when this happens. He is like a deer in headlights and you can see in his eyes, ‘What the fuck did I do?’

11. I start to think of mom.

12. I hear noises.

13. I don’t hear noises

14. I have to pee. (You would think that this is an easily fixable dilemma)

15. I’m trying to remember if the alarm is set.

16. Hungry.

17. R’s pager goes off, more than once. It seems to know when I am about to dose off.

18. I hear J stirring.

19. I don’t hear J stirring.

20. Did I mention that R snores?

21. I reminisce of the days when I was an RA in college and I am confronting a room with a police officer and a fellow coworker. The kid comes out of his room wearing nothing but leopard skin leotards. That will keep you awake for days!

22. I remember the perfect comeback to an argument I had 3 weeks ago.

23. I haven’t shaved my legs in a long time and you can almost not tell the difference from my legs and R’s.

24. Trying to decide if I would rather have a boy or a girl as my next child.

25. Trying to decide if I even want another child.

26. Thinking of my next blog entry.

2 comments April 24th, 2006 Edit

One measly inch

For many months I have been complaining that I want a king size bed. In our old house it really wouldn’t fit so after our fire, I was hesitant about getting a queen but I knew it was the only solution at the time. It was either that or I slept on the futon in the computer room. However I like to hear my husbands breathing while I sleep and I already use the monitor to listen to my baby boy. We now moved out of that house and into one that has rooms that fit us much better. We sold our old bedroom set with the trillions of drawers, low laying bed and the matching nightstands to the people who are buying the house. “Why move it if it fits so well in the room?” SOLD! So off to furniture stores we went to buy a new bedroom set. An adult bedroom set. Ever since the words ‘new set’ hit my radar I have bugging my other half that I want a king size and I was going to get it no matter what it took. I finally did get him to see the beauty of a bed with space and room to roam in, by the way things look, it’s going to be awhile before I prove this to him.

We found a bedroom set that we both really love with a king size bed. And what do you know, it was available to be delivered on Wednesday. PERFECT! So the next day we went to a local mattress store. We ordered our super soft, super comfortable, dreamy king size bed with low profile box springs. We decided on the low profile because I am pretty short and I feel I shouldn’t have to actually climb into bed.

The set comes in early in the day, which was perfect. I was able to check the drawers and dust it off and position everything perfectly. I set up our clocks, lamps, baby monitor and anything else that had to be ready. Wednesday was a holiday and I was going to shower and get ready while baby J was sleeping because we were going to leave as soon as he woke up to go to my cousins. I wait and wait and wait for the mattress delivery. With each minute that passes I ask myself if I should hop into a quick shower. I call for an update on the truck and they are on their way to my house. So I wait. An hour goes by and no truck. Damn! I could have showered, but just in case, I didn’t want to be indisposed when they knocked at the door. R gets home from work and they still don’t show up. Another call and another half hour and they drive up. They set up the bed and R and I take a good look at it. It’s too high. I feel like I am climbing Mount Everest to get ontop of the bed. We measured and the box spring was definitely not a low profile. So after much fighting and arguing and steam coming out of R’s ears, the box springs went back.

This was so depressing. By the time we were done with the battle with Sleepy’s, it was too late for us to go to my Cousin’s house for the Sedar. We decided to go to R’s Cousin’s instead of sitting in traffic. It actually did work out nicely, but I feel horrible for canceling on my Cousin when I was the one who wanted to get together with them. So we slept on the living room floor on our old mattress, looking up at our beautiful king size bed propped up against the wall in the hallway.

Today R got our money back from Sleepy’s and called 1-800-Mattress and ordered what we needed. These were to be delivered tonight. The guys came, placed the box springs on the bed and then had to take them right back on the truck. Of all the low profile box springs out there, we get the ULTRA low ones that only measure 4 inches high. All we need is one that is 5 inches. Just one inch is what is keeping us from sleeping in our wonderland of a king size bed. So again, we will be sleeping on the old queen on the living room floor staring up at our beautiful king size bed propped up against the wall in the hallway.

Add comment April 13th, 2006 Edit

Comfort of Our Future

“I want a king size bed.”

“Why? Our bed is fine.”

“It’s too small.”

“No its not.”

“Every night you creep onto my side of the bed and I have no where to go.”

“I’m going to creep to your side of the bed no matter how big it is.”

“I want my own bedroom.”

Add comment April 1st, 2006 Edit

It certainly sucks, but you blow

Today I was drowned with errands and decided when my friend called me to go to an indoor playground for Baby J to play with his girlfriend and her twin brother for 2 hours I just had to go. My husband decided that sleeping late constitutes him to stay home and work from the comfort of the basement in his jammies. That’s the life, right? Well, when he is home, I get very little done. He spends hours on the phone with conference calls and J seems to think that his mother is dispensable when his father is anywhere in the house. Well, I am good for the diaper changes and juice on demand, but daddy is more fun. When this happens, I need to get out of the house and I just didn’t feel like taking Baby J to the bank teller and the mail place and anywhere else I had to be.

After a few tantrums and a complete meltdown at the playground, I took J to my fathers house to drop off a ton of stuff to store there. It gave grandpa and baby some time together as they fought over whether the cat food should go in or out of the container. Guess who won that argument? When it was time to leave I had to tear him away from the cat food (Baby J, not my father) and practically pin him down to get him in the car so we can go home to eat lunch. Oh, the screaming!

A great benefit of having the husband home during the week is that I can put J down for his nap, leave the monitor with him and make sure I am back within 2 hours. I get a great 2 hour break! I can go to the bank, mail a few packages, food shop, I can even run in a meadow. I am free from a child that will make the nerves in my neck tense up and make any childless person thank their lord for not being me.

So I had to get both of my vacuums fixed. The upright’s roller didn’t spin and the canister smelled really bad when I used it. So I went to get them fixed at a local appliance repair place and expected to pay a bit to have them looked at and fixed and I’d walk out of there with something to use whether it was one of mine or a loaner. Instead I am told that both of my vacuums are for crap and that I need to buy this super duper, professional quality vacuum that would suck the eyeballs out of my head if I needed it to do so. So while this barely 20 year old moron is trying to sell me a vacuum and trying to make me feel like Ralph Kramden from the Honeymooners (remember that episode?) I am starting to get pissed off. I don’t usually get pissed off. I do tend to become the sucker buyer because I can’t say no to a good salesman. This guy probably was a bad salesman because he couldn’t get me to buy his product. One thing I have learned from my husband, who was back at home with his feet up on his desk probably surfing the internet for the next car he wants to buy, was to never buy on the spot. Yes, this was a great product, but this guy doesn’t know my financial situation. He doesn’t know if I can afford a new vacuum. Yea, I might need a new vacuum because mine are crapola. I could have stolen these two and brought them in to be fixed just to sell them for 20 bucks for a heroin fix. I kept telling him that I needed to talk to my husband before I purchase something this expensive. It was obvious the moron wasn’t married or had a significant other. You don’t just go and buy an $800 vacuum on a whim, yet a $1500 one either.

The moron pissed me off so bad that I actually said to him, “If you are not going to fix the ones I brought in, then I will take my business elsewhere. I need to get home and I am not listening to your song and dance. If you keep pushing me, you will guarantee that I would NEVER buy your product and make sure none of my friends do either!” What you need to understand is that I never talk like that. Those words were from me listening to my husband do ‘his thing’ when it comes to dealing with people. I can never stand my ground or be a bitch to a stranger. Maybe to my husband or an ex-boyfriend that thought it was smart to question my beliefs or my favorite color. The moron suddenly apologized and went about to look at my two piece of crap that would never pick up a single piece of dirt and fixed them, free of charge.

I’m so proud of myself. I came home and ran down to the husband to tell him my story and there he was, feet up surfing the net for the next car he wanted to buy.

406 comments February 9th, 2006 Edit

In reference to my New Years’ post

“What about us do you think pegs us as dorks?”
“Lots of things, I cant list all of them.”

Add comment January 6th, 2006 Edit

Mr. & Mrs. Dork Bring in the New Year

I have to admit, I think that we are the biggest dorks out there. The only bottle of liquor in the house is an ingredient in my mothers’ sweet potato pie recipe which both have been passed down to me. Our idea of a great night out is dinner at Chili’s and a movie. We put T-Shirts on our child that say things like ‘I TCP/IP but mostly IP’ and ‘Newbie’ and plan on making him watch the whole Star Wars series and then quiz him to make sure he was paying attention by the time he is 5.

What are your plans for New Years? Would like to know what these dorks are doing? We have made plans with a bunch of our friends and we are going to eat dinner at a small local Mexican place at 6:30. After dinner we will be coming back to our place and play with Baby J till bedtime at 9. Then all the festivities will begin. We will whip out the bags of chip, dip and snacks. Crack open the cans of diet coke and start partying. First we will play some Mario Party 7, then when we get tired of playing that and realize that half of our company is bored as a doorknob we will play Taboo, then Shout About Movies, then stop at 11:57 to watch the ball drop, kiss and cheer and then we will whip out one of the 10 something versions of Triva and play that till we are ready to pass out. We will go to bed, wake up and be pissed that nothing is opened and there is nothing to do. I guess you can say we would be lucky that we wont have a hangover, right?

What is the sad thing about all of this, R felt the need that we should send out an Evite for this very exciting evening.

3 comments December 31st, 2005 Edit