Lola Listens to the Victrola While Drinking Coca-Cola
Last week was a strange week, personally, and the world continues to burn in the form of another school shooting which was on the heels of a shooting that took place in a grocery store in Buffalo, New York. It’s all very discouraging – the state of the world, the gloomy, rainy weather last week, and the fact that my gall bladder is full of stones. I’ve had some significant stomach pain since mid-March that had me seeing my doctor in early April. She chalked the pain up to indigestion but this seemed suspect. I can put some real crap in my stomach, which, quite frankly is likely what got me into this mess. One moment, you’re young and older people are offering cautionary tales that you cannot even grasp until it's too late and you need progressive lenses and surgery to remove your gall bladder. My mom likes to point out that I’m “not young anymore.” If I ignore her, my back tends to remind me.
Thankfully, Andrea’s 5-lb. lifting restriction was recently removed. This means that Helga is back!!!!! Helga is the German nickname I bestowed upon Andrea in honor of her mad strength. I think I came up with this as I watched her single-handedly move our beast of a treadmill into place. Helga had been out of commission since busting the shit out of her arm back in January. It’s surprising how a restriction on one of 2 able-bodied adults can put a crimp in plans around the house. As much as I hate to admit it, my back and my mom are right. We are getting older which means that I relented and hired “College Hunks” to come over and move most of our crap out of a room that we’d scheduled to get a closet installed in. Last Sunday, in preparation for the hunks, we moved an old dresser right out the front door and onto the lawn and I posted it for FREE on Facebook. This was a hot commodity and went quick. It was a different experience than in Massachusetts where people would have wanted it for a better deal than free, inquired about the dimensions and asked me to load it into their car for them too. Here, I let a guy use our dolly and he wheeled it to his car and slid it into the back while thanking me profusely.
I had some unrealistic expectations about the hunk’s prices. I guess they have to pay tuition so they weren’t the deal I’d imagined they’d be. We hired them for 2 hours and, because they aren’t old, 45-minutes would have done the trick.
Old houses are interesting - we have 4 “bedrooms” on our 2nd floor and 2 of those do not have closets. In Massachusetts, you wouldn’t be able to get away with calling a closet less room a bedroom. But here, you can. Which likely helped us buy this house so I’m not complaining - - too much.
My gallbladder is scheduled to be evicted via surgery on June 17th and then I will have a 10-lb. lifting restriction. I’m not good at resting for an extended period. However, it isn’t often you’re mandated to rest so I am going to make the most of it. I told Andrea I’d ring a bell if I need her but I really think I need to give her a rest too. On Friday afternoon, I was putting some things away after the closet install and was singing a little ditty to my cat, Lola. There are a surprising number of words that rhyme with Lola - - Victrola, Coca-Cola, Ebola, areola…
“Stop singing about areola’s – I’m about to get on a work call.” Andrea commands from her home office. Earlier, she’d complained about the recent texts I’d sent her, specifically, the photos accompanying my texts. I had sent her a photo of a large dump our dog Wrigley had let loose on the kitchen floor. This is very unlike him but apparently, if he doesn’t get to go out twice in the morning, this is what will happen. Andrea’s been putting up with me since 2008. I’d really like to tell you that I’m a proper lady and, as such, have preserved mystique during this 14-year tenure but that’s not true.
“UGH! Smell my armpit!” I groaned on Saturday after we’d moved some furniture.
“You’re not trying to use that natural deodorant again, are you?” Andrea asked.
“Well, yes. But I got a different brand.” I say.
“No. Forget it.” Andrea says.
I’d used natural deodorant, successfully, in Massachusetts. But I have found it to be no match for the Virginia heat. This morning, before applying deodorant, natural or un-natural, Bogart shot out the back door and into the yard. I had to capture him in my pajamas. I entered the back door, clutching him to my chest and lecturing him on the dangers of running away. Andrea gave us both a look and Bogart expressed his displeasure by meowing at us both. I applied the un-natural deodorant and we walked to breakfast. After breakfast, we let Bogart into his catio where he appears to be holding a grudge, but at least he's quiet. Not nearly enough words rhyme with Bogey - - maybe fogey and hoagie. But that's about it.