A smattering

Wanting to take advantage of their very first nothing-to-do-no-obligations summer weekend AND both having left work rather early on Friday, the new homeowners spent their entire weekend fixing up the new house. There are actual pictures hung on the wall. There are real books sitting on a real bookshelf in our living room, along with a rather expensive piece of Art presiding over the couch. The red bathroom is entirely devoid of blue tape, plastic, rags, tools and the bad aura left over from the many expletives uttered in its presence. The red bathroom has a rug and pictures and a toilet paper holder drilled into the right place. Of course there are no pictures of the red bathroom because I am lame. Also because I can't find the camera.

I also finally got rid of all the extra pillows and sheets hanging out in the second bedroom and Put Things Away. I set up the piano and brought all the music upstairs and supervised while Phillip hung a shelf. It was perfect. Then my sister called and said she needed to spend the night- so I put the piano away and pulled out the futon and got out all the sheets and pillows and made the bed.

I still want my red couches and I think a rug would make the echo-iness of the living room go away, but it's starting to look like a Real Live House. Yay!

That's really the only exciting thing I have to say today. Oh, we also went grocery shopping. It just gets better and better.

Yesterday at church we had a Guest Priest who talked exactly like Milton from Office Space. Yes, the guy with the stapler. And he was there to RAISE MONEY. He's a Maryknoll priest working with immigrant laborers in Hong Kong and visiting our parish to ask us to become "Maryknoll Benefactors". I can't help but think his purpose was severely compromised by the mumbling. I mean, I'm especially interested in missionary work in China and he could barely hold MY attention. Well, any attention that was not entirely fixated on the fact that he sounded exactly like Milton. I am not exaggerating.

Also during church, for some reason, I experienced a deep craving for bubble tea. Who knows why. Right as transubstantiation was taking place, I turned to my husband and hissed: "I WANT BUBBLE TEA." I probably added another 10 years to my time in purgatory, but I really really wanted peach milk tea with the little tapioca balls. YUM. But when we drove into the U District to satisfy my demands, all three bubble tea shops were closed. I get that the student clientele were probably sleeping until noon and that's why none of the stores were going to open until 1, but the scope of my disappointment was vast. Wah.

So I went home to play the piano. I used to play the piano a lot in high school. I was never Good, but I was Decent. (A fact driven home almost daily when I was best friends with the Piano Prodigy in 9th grade, who played AND sang, who was beautiful and perfect in every way. We shared a piano teacher, however, and the teacher once told my mother that she preferred teaching me rather than the Prodigy, possibly because I was not a Big Fat Freak about how fast and amazing I could play that one scary Mozart song, possibly because I could not even sight-read the scary Mozart song. ANYWAY.) I busted out the Gershwin and transferred my bubble tea melancholy to "The Man I Love." One day he'll come along.... peach bubble tea... and he'll be sweet and strong... peach bubble tea...

Obviously I did not get enough sleep last night.