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04.14.2002 - 4:32 p.m.

Sunday
I've learned something profound today. Shopping for sofas is very much like shopping for bathing suits. You look at a bazillion different varieties, all of which are visually unappealing in one way or another. You finally settle on trying one on for size, and you are not surprised to find it is uncomfortable and makes you look fat.

Ok, the couches we saw didn't actually give me body issues, but they were almost without exception 1) floral-y, 2) overstuffed and efreakinnormous, or 3) required 38 accessory pillows. Like I want to spend half my day fiddling with the fucking sofa pillows and chiding JB for dislodging my precious little arrangement.

Leather is out because we have an evil cat, whose mission in life (besides coating the surface of every single thing in our house with hair) is to dig at sofas. She can be so singleminded when she's in the midst of a clawfest orgy that direct sprays to the face with a water bottle and repeated swats that swing her rotund self sideways only cause her to flatten her ears and claw harder. Another thing, if you yell at her - "CAT!!! STOP IT!" - while she's doing something bad (like leaping up on the table the instant you shut the bathroom door to eat out of your cereal bowl) she will react by going for the couch. Classic transference of aggression, or as we call it, Cat Lashout.

Cat Lashout is the most evident if the cat has had something compromise her dignity. Cat is swatted off a table and lands with an ungainly thud causing owners to snicker rudely - cat then rushes about the house in a fit before digging ferociously at the couch, stopping only when a paper towel roll whops her in the butt.

Anyway, we could declaw her, but the idea of that makes me feel bad. Awww, poor kittums, mumsy doesn't want to take away your widdle cwaws. Although if I did, not only would our furniture be saved but my hands might actually have a chance to grow unscathed skin.

So a futile morning spent looking for a Sofa That Doesn't Suck, an object seeming more and more elusive, much like the Perfect Pair of Jeans and the Non UniBoob Sports Bra. Then this afternoon, I spent some time cleaning in preparation for the maid service that is coming tomorrow. If this is a concept that seems retarded to you, you and JB are on the same page. Hey, I just didn't want them to be all "Oh my god, Delores, will you just LOOK at this lady's bathtub? Seriously, I quit."

Maid service - yet another weird but welcome perk from the new job. Three maids for an hour, biweekly. Not too shabby, eh? I asked a girl at the office if she took advantage of it, and she told me that she didn't because she 'enjoyed cleaning her place'. WhatEVER. I take pride in my things, but I don't gain any personal fulfillment out of cleaning the toilet, sister. Scrubbing at a poo stain does not give my life meaning.

Tomorrow, back to the weirdness of using a Mac and forever forgetting the close window icon is on the LEFT, dammit, the LEFT.

go back ::: forward

04.13.2002 - No quarters? No fucking problemo.
04.12.2002 - My theme song, lately, would be more like that cartoon scrambling-running sound they always made on The Flintstones.
04.10.2002 - Nothing says low-stress like offering total strangers an obscene lump of cash for a house that may or may not be infested by killer bees.

ARTIFACT: Recent library anomaly: only 25% slutty novels.

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I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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