Nothing

My flat face. It hurts to do that to my nose.

I knew this would happen. Nothing to write about. No wait, that's not it...nothing to write about that I have a decent hope of making interesting. It's a good thing I'm going on vacation Thursday, a whole week of things to write about upon my return.

Let's see. Yesterday, took a long bus ride to pick up my paycheck at the restaurant. Serge came with me, since I had lured him with the promise of going to Old Navy and buying shorts for him afterward. I don't know why, but he has 27 bathing suits (which are never worn) but only one pair of (torn and stained) real shorts. It was hot, muggy and suffocating in the bus. The cocaphony of human body odors was like (insert your worst smell memory here). At the restaurant, Serge ate a bowl of mussels and I had eggs benedict (yolks well cooked). It made me feel special that some of the employees there didn't even know that I had quit even though it was weeks ago.

After that, we took another long bus ride to the mall where the Old Navy is located downtown. Serge got 4 pairs of shorts and a shirt. I got a pair of shorts too. We like Old Navy because Serge can feel fashionable and I can deal with paying 12 bucks for a pair of shorts (though used for a dollar would be better).

We briefly discussed going to pick up a window air conditioner, it's pretty much the same discussion we have every year. We didn't get one. (And though you might think it is I who is against it, you would be mistaken.)

When we got home, I cleaned out all the drawers and closets and reorganized the clothing. (I tried to think of something bitter to say about it, but the truth is that I like doing that - ok, how about this - we have 33 white t-shirts (17 with oily stains, and at least 3 that stink even after nuclear bleaching) between us and I couldn't bring myself to throw any of them out.) While I did all that counting, Serge puttered in the yard. The deck guys are going to come today and start our new fabulous deck of life, so Serge wanted to move a bunch of stuff around and off the current porch area.

I made pasta (ok, I opened the Stouffers package and put it in the pan) and garlic bread, and then we ate outside in the backyard. The people next door went on vacation and their teenage children had their friends over for a pool party. They played (really good) music at very high volume and screamed and splashed and carried on in a way that made me smile. Upstairs from us, Guy consoled his 4 year old daughter on the balcony as she cried about having to go back to her mom's house for the week. It made me sad. On one side of me, unbridled enthusiasm, and on the other, inconsolable sadness. Sara sat under the table scouting for crumbs that might have fallen through the table.

At 7:30, I was forbidden to further drink or eat, since I was having my blood taken this morning at 7:30am (for my once a decade checkup.) We rented "A Series of Unfortunate Events" and found it interesting to watch, but Serge summed it up best, "This is for kids."

Aren't you glad I'm going on vacation?