Productive
This weekend was a mishmash of drama and extreme laziness and actual construct...ivity(?) and luckily it was busy enough to, for a few moments anyway, take my mind off the hemorrhoid that is My Job.
The drama part began with a phone call at 6 a.m. on Saturday from my brother. He had been in a car accident on the way back from Atlantic City. His friend had fallen asleep at the wheel, the car was totaled, and because of where my brother was sitting, he endured the brunt of the crash. Thank goodness that only added up to 3 staples in his head, some whiplash, and a bunch of cuts and bruises, because from the sound of things, it could have been waaaaay worse.
So I drove the hour from my house to a hospital near AC (they hadn't made it very far) and played the part of the Good Sister, promising not to tell Mom and Dad before he did, and then screaming at him for spending 6 safe months in Iraq-- a war zone, and then coming back to New Jersey and almost killing himself. Idiot.
P.S. The most entertaining part of this whole thing was when his roommate, D, had to push their female friend, A, unscathed, sporting a hospital gown and disconnecting false eyelashes, out of the hospital in a wheelchair because she was still too drunk to walk.
When I finally returned home, 4 hours later, I slept for another 2 hours and then went to my parents' house so my mom could help me with my resume. I scored a free Omaha Steaks cheeseburger and made my way to Kelly's, where Coconut had a chance to play with her new puppy. It made me reconsider a second dog, because she had so much fun, got out so much energy, and I didn't really have to be a part of it. Then again, I would have to be a part of buying twice as much dog food, giving twice as many baths, and cleaning up twice as many "accidents." So the jury is still out on that one.
On Sunday, Alex and I worked more on the garage. This seems to be a never-ending project, as we have spend many Sundays out there, and still do not have a beautiful, HGTV worthy organized storage space. Perhaps the biggest accomplishment of the day was when we brought our bags and bags and bags (I'm not exaggerating-- there were about 20) of old clothing to the clothing drop dumpsters in the grocery store parking lot.
Ethical Question for Y'all: If you are absolutely too lazy/busy/saddled down with the loads of laundry containing clothes you are currently wearing, do you:
A. Donate bags of dirty clothes, unsensored for worn underwear, in the hopes that someone else might decide to wash them and some less fortunate people will be able to purchase your expensive, designer-but-too-small-clothing?
B. Throw everything away because otherwise someone would have to dig through your clothes, and will inevitably touch a pair of your dirty underwear, and that's just unsanitary?
Alex insisted on A. I want to state for the record that my bags of clothes were clean and contained not a pair of underwear, dirty or otherwise.
After the donation, we went grocery shopping, and I purchased the ingredients for The Last Macaroni and Cheese I am Attempting, I Swear. If this doesn't work, I am spending the rest of my life with Kraft and Mom's (when she makes it and I happen to be around).
Stay tuned-- I'll let you know how it goes.
The drama part began with a phone call at 6 a.m. on Saturday from my brother. He had been in a car accident on the way back from Atlantic City. His friend had fallen asleep at the wheel, the car was totaled, and because of where my brother was sitting, he endured the brunt of the crash. Thank goodness that only added up to 3 staples in his head, some whiplash, and a bunch of cuts and bruises, because from the sound of things, it could have been waaaaay worse.
So I drove the hour from my house to a hospital near AC (they hadn't made it very far) and played the part of the Good Sister, promising not to tell Mom and Dad before he did, and then screaming at him for spending 6 safe months in Iraq-- a war zone, and then coming back to New Jersey and almost killing himself. Idiot.
P.S. The most entertaining part of this whole thing was when his roommate, D, had to push their female friend, A, unscathed, sporting a hospital gown and disconnecting false eyelashes, out of the hospital in a wheelchair because she was still too drunk to walk.
When I finally returned home, 4 hours later, I slept for another 2 hours and then went to my parents' house so my mom could help me with my resume. I scored a free Omaha Steaks cheeseburger and made my way to Kelly's, where Coconut had a chance to play with her new puppy. It made me reconsider a second dog, because she had so much fun, got out so much energy, and I didn't really have to be a part of it. Then again, I would have to be a part of buying twice as much dog food, giving twice as many baths, and cleaning up twice as many "accidents." So the jury is still out on that one.
On Sunday, Alex and I worked more on the garage. This seems to be a never-ending project, as we have spend many Sundays out there, and still do not have a beautiful, HGTV worthy organized storage space. Perhaps the biggest accomplishment of the day was when we brought our bags and bags and bags (I'm not exaggerating-- there were about 20) of old clothing to the clothing drop dumpsters in the grocery store parking lot.
Ethical Question for Y'all: If you are absolutely too lazy/busy/saddled down with the loads of laundry containing clothes you are currently wearing, do you:
A. Donate bags of dirty clothes, unsensored for worn underwear, in the hopes that someone else might decide to wash them and some less fortunate people will be able to purchase your expensive, designer-but-too-small-clothing?
B. Throw everything away because otherwise someone would have to dig through your clothes, and will inevitably touch a pair of your dirty underwear, and that's just unsanitary?
Alex insisted on A. I want to state for the record that my bags of clothes were clean and contained not a pair of underwear, dirty or otherwise.
After the donation, we went grocery shopping, and I purchased the ingredients for The Last Macaroni and Cheese I am Attempting, I Swear. If this doesn't work, I am spending the rest of my life with Kraft and Mom's (when she makes it and I happen to be around).
Stay tuned-- I'll let you know how it goes.
posted by Jess at 5:26 AM
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