No more sweaty windows

This will be quick.

They're putting new windows in tomorrow and about this I am supposed to be unbelievably excited. Except- not. We had to move the chair and pull out my desk and move the table and we had a PARTY here Saturday night and I am still picking up the napkins and plastic cups. So all the living room furniture is in the middle of the living room, right where my feet are supposed to go while I'm spending quality time with TiVo. I can't go in the office- which is five times as disastrous as usual- because it makes me jittery. I'm sitting on the couch trying to Calm Down About All The Unsettledness. But Phillip? Is inspired by the moving and the jostling and is organizing his desk, taking out the recycling, putting the dishes away, clearing up all the wrapping paper still on the floor from Saturday, and oh my God he's washing the dishes. He's WASHING THE DISHES.

It feels like moving. I hate moving. Also? They are so not going to be done putting in the windows tomorrow. They attached Wednesday to the time commitment, just in case. But it's DECEMBER, people, and we had bathtubs full of rain dumping over my office today and I'm very interested to see how they're going to put windows in without Nature soaking my living room. And don't try anything funny, Window People, because we took pictures.

Yay for the new windows and all- which were supposed to be done in AUGUST and are only being put in now because the landlord gets a TAX BREAK if he gets it done by December 31st- but I hate hate hate the furniture being out of place and the fact that I can't enjoy my Christmas tree because the CHAIR IS IN THE WRONG PLACE. The chair that has been in the wrong place since FRIDAY NIGHT. It's totally worth it to warp your universe to host a PARTY, but warping it for strangers who will enter your apartment in your absence to remove giant sections of your walls?

Whatever. Phillip is STILL washing dishes.

I might have a cheerier disposition tomorrow. And if I do, I will tell the story of the White Elephant Gift Exchange, aka the Night of Fantastically Awful People Who Think It's Totally Fine To Quietly "Forget" Their "Gifts" At The Hostess' Apartment. If you're lucky there will also be a photo essay featuring my shower and Darth Maul.

All others suffering from OCD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Sustained Freak Outs Over Unsettled Living Spaces are welcome to contact me, Pity Party Planner Extraordinaire. Wine and leftover Christmas party cookies will be served.