It is pouring down rain here right now. Which is great except that I completely neglected to take down the faux spider webs in our front yard, faux spider webs that have Barbies intricately entwined in them thanks to a prank some friends of ours played a few days before Halloween. Obviously I decided to leave the Barbies there because what says HALLOWEEN HORROR like Beauty Shop Barbie fighting for her life in the shrubbery outside our home?
But even though the rain is going to make those spider webs and Barbies a big pain to remove, I’m so thankful for it. It’s been so dry here for so long that I’ll never take rain for granted again. Plus the puppies will be so happy for the opportunity to turn our back yard into one giant mud pit since they have long ago destroyed any grass that used to grow there.
Which reminds me that a few of you have asked how my white couch has fared since the puppies arrival. I’m going to shoot straight. It’s not good. It has fought the good fight and kept the faith but I’m afraid it isn’t going to win the race. I was lamenting the state of our couch the other day after I washed all the slipcovers for the sixty-third time this month and P asked, “Now tell me again why you ever thought we were a white couch family?”
I have no idea. But I think at least some of the blame lies directly on Pinterest and the way it lured me in with all the pins of lovely white couches and people touting how easy it is to just throw the slipcovers in the wash with some Oxy-clean and bleach. Yes. That is super easy. For people who want to take the time to wash slipcovers on a regular basis. As it turns out, I am not one of those people. I want a couch that just sits there and looks good without any real effort on my part.
When I was growing up, my Me-Ma had these couches in her living room that were made out of some sort of vinyl or something. They always reminded me of elephant skin and if you ever fell asleep on one of them it was a given that you’d have to peel yourself off it. I never really understood why she had those couches until now. I guarantee you could wipe those suckers down with a damp cloth and call it a day. There’s something to be said for a little practicality. Or a lot of practicality. Especially if you’re married to a landscaper, have a child who eats chocolate and adopted two dogs that are insane.
The short version of this story is I’m in the market for a new couch.
In completely unrelated news, P and Caroline went hunting earlier this evening and I decided it was a fine occasion to pick up some Popeye’s chicken for my dinner. I am such a fan of the three piece spicy combo with mashed potatoes, but no one in my family loves it like I do. P would say it’s because they have standards, but whatever. Popeye’s is delicious.
Anyway, I came home with my chicken, thoroughly pleased with myself, and turned on an episode of Friends to enjoy whilst I ate my spicy chicken tenders.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I need to let you know this was at 4:45 p.m. In my defense, I never ate lunch and felt this justified both the eating of the fried chicken and the early hour.)
(I also feel the need to tell you that I changed into my pajamas before I ate the chicken. Clearly, I’m out of control.)
So I’m watching Friends (the one where Joey is being interviewed by Soap Opera Digest and Rachel wants him to mention “Gal Pal Rachel Green”) and I take a bite of my chicken and notice something feels weird. Do not be alarmed. I am not about to tell you I bit into a rat or something. The permanent retainer behind my top front teeth broke loose on one side. It was all I could do to enjoy the rest of my dinner because I now have a loose wire inside my mouth.
I thought about trying to pry the whole thing off, but I’m worried that might screw something up. As it is, I’ll hardly sleep tonight for worrying about my teeth shifting and messing with that loose wire with my tongue. It’s like I developed a new hobby in the last three hours.
So I guess I’ll be calling the orthodontist in the morning to get my retainer fixed. At least it’s something simple and fairly painless. Which is probably more than Barbie can say as she sits out in the rain, wrapped in a faux spider web.