Woman. Legend. Blog.

Mr. B and I are burnt out after a month of non-stop house doings culminating in a 35-person party that we planned and executed 80% by ourselves, which means we need a vacation.  We are also broke and sans vacation days, which means we can’t take one (or at least a good one. A good vacation is defined as any vacation where you get the hell out of America for at least a week. All-inclusives in Mexico do not count as getting the hell out of America.) And, and for the past week, we’ve been fighting a monster cold, which means we can’t see anyone locally because we’ll infect them.

Hello. Are you enjoying your Friday? I’m not.

Thanks to Lindsey, I found out that Shake Shack is opening in Philadelphia.

Ok, enough with the bullshit.  Here’s the house. (as always, clicky for bigger pics).

Last night, as Mr. B was busy engaging in a nerfest of epic proportions, I took some time to unwind and prepare for the week ahead by lighting my hookah that we bought in Israel for the first time in our new house.

The wind blew fierce and heavy, hot-fisted gusts into her face, making her stagger.  She squinted, and continued up the hill.  The humidity pulled her down straight into the depths of Hell.  It was just like the time she had been in Arabia, only here, the heat was meaner, more intense. You had to fight it with every ounce of your being.  She trudged on, and the ground sloped mercilessly upward, a degree more with every step that she took.

Mr. B and I were driving to Sam’s Club yesterday because we’re having some (upwards of 40) people over on Saturday and we needed ginormous-sized portions of everything.

It’s strawberry season right now. So, we went strawberry-picking with friends in New Jersey.  Because if you’re going to eat food straight out of the ground, go all the way and eat food straight out of the ground in the most chemically-laden ground in the United States. In New Jersey.

Mr. B was slacking, because he ate more than he picked.  “They don’t weigh YOU before and after…only your containers.” Afterwards, as we picked, we eavesdropped on the conversations in neighboring rows.  Since the farm is near Princeton, they were conversations about the true nature of Lambda as a variable and whether the white parents’ Chinese child was going to sleepaway math camp that year.  I wish I made any of that up.

Well, somehow I’ve slacked all the way to Friday without writing a single decent post.

I cannot tell you how excited I am to be typing this from my iMac, which now has a temporary table. That I can put my camera on! And upload pictures! Praise Bahá’u’lláh.

• Work
• IKEA Couch is delivered
• Unbrideled enthusiasm for 15 minutes as you finally have a place to sit
• IKEA couch is defective (obviously)
• Call IKEA
• Wait 30 minutes on hold
• Heart rate is up
• Yell at IKEA representative
• New couch will be delivered!
• In three weeks.
• Work
• Sleep
• Weekend
• Put together bed delivered from Overstock.
• This takes you four hours.
• Decide now is when you’re ready to paint your bedroom.
• You hate yourself.
• Drive to Home Depot
• Buy six paint samplers of the color green in remarkably similar shades
• Paint all six onto the wall. Pretend you’re in The Yellow Wallpaper.
• Drive back to Home Depot, get one color. Hand over your wallet.
• But wait, you also need a painting tarp and a tool organizer.
• Drive back home
• Tape walls for 2-3 hours, tape carpet for 1 hour
• Paint for 6 hours
• Hallucinate from the fumes.
• It was a good hallucination.
• Examine handiwork.
• Coat of paint is uneven.
• What.
• Paint for 1 more hour.
• Hallucinate. This time you see Jonathan Rhys Meyers riding a unicorn.
• Watch TV for
• Coat of paint is uneven
• Screw this
• Sleep
• Work
• Work
• Drive to IKEA for kitchen chairs
• Buy 6
• Five are great! One is defective
• Alcohol
• Work
• Weekend!
• Dad comes, says bedroom painting is sloppy.
• Tell him he can sleep in the radon basement.
• Mom says the green looks like “you sleep in a swamp.”
• Tell mom she can sleep in the radon basement with dad.
• Pretty kitchen table is delivered from West Elm.  It is PERFECT! PRAISE ALLAH.
• Work
• Try to muster up 30 minutes to take pictures of the house for the blog.  Realize that your camera, your camera cord, and your computer are on three different floors. Also, your computer is lying down, turned on, on the carpet of your office. Not worth it.
• Drive to IKEA to return defective chair
• Feel like you’re a prisoner of IKEA. A prisoner of economics.
• Since everything else is EXPENSIVE AS HELL, decide, after three weeks of looking online for alternatives, that you will buy an IKEA desk, even though you’ve been burned in the past.
• Desk is in-stock, legs are out of stock.
• You will have to drive to IKEA AGAIN.
• But not today.
• Hate your life.
• Hate your husband.
• Hate yourself.
• Drive to Home Depot.
• Buy grill.
• Realize you also need charcoal, lighter fluid, spatula, weed killer.
• Connect Home Depot to your checking account automatically.
• Work
• Think about how you will have to go to IKEA today again after work.
• Contemplate homicide.
• Read your to-do list
• It is not getting any smaller.
• Cry quietly.