Remember when you’d not only voluntarily but excitedly run to the mailbox in anticipation of something with your name on it? Whether you found an advertisement prompting you to beg your parents for a subscription to Scholastic magazine (an item destined for the trash after an uninterested “no” from mom) or a deceiving postcard announcing your fabulous artistic skills had “won” you the ability to have your parents fork over money to attend their art class, it had your name on it, and it validated whatever overzealous amount of excitement you had for the postman’s arrival. Today, I hate getting the mail. The stack is ever-growing, and is full of nothing but junk mail and bills. I open one eye while flipping through the pile, hoping most of it is for the other C.L. that lives in this house. The majority somehow ends up being for me, because I’m not sure who sold my dental soul to corporate America, but I’m confident that everyone trying to make a buck is soliciting my choices in dental armamentarium.
Now that the contents of the mailbox prove without contest that I am, in fact, an adult….I’ve filtered those overzealous energies that use to look forward to the postman’s arrival—-to the FedEx man’s arrival. I LOVE packages. They get my heart rate up, I sweat a little, and I’m so quick to open them that I probably shouldn’t be allowed to do so with a knife. Unfortunately, most of the packages are for Chris. New lenses, filters, memory cards, etc. I’m not sure what “NewEgg” is, but they deliver to our house a lot. Monday the Fedex man brought me a package, and it was a good one. I gave him a bottled water
and winked at him so that he’d remember to stop by with things in my name more often.
While the contents of the package won’t excite you like they did me, here’s what was inside:
Thrilling, I know. Are you seeing the pattern on the left? Are you loving it like I am? Blood pressure was up not only opening the package, but laying it out in our living room to see how it “felt”. Luckily I don’t work Mondays (yet), so I got busy that night. Despite several prior attempts to sew pillow covers with invisible zippers (think finished covers still inside out with zippers that won’t open), I finally found a tutorial that had enough pictures that I understood what I was trying to do. The result:
I know, exciting stuff. I love them and I can’t wait to sew more invisible zippers into things. Rest assured, I won’t start growing out my armpit hair and sewing my own stockings and tunics anytime soon.
We have a
trial run house guest staying with us this week. I confused the crap out of him when I picked him up last night after dropping his parents off at the airport, but he’s starting to settle in here, especially once he saw Chris lives here too.
He’s adorable. He doesn’t, however, have confidence with the hardwood floors. We’ve been laying out old carpets for him to trot on because he thinks the wood is quicksand and refuses to put a paw on it. We’ll see if he can adjust by the end of the week.