1) We had to get rid of our couch to put up the Christmas tree! Well, that's kind of misleading, because the couch was WAY past its expiration date and needed to be thrown away anyway. We'd gotten it a few months before we were married, and it had been thoroughly sat upon in it's time in our house. It wasn't even in any shape to donate or give away, unless someone wanted to risk tetanus by way of springs. When we were trying to figure out where we were going to move things so that we could put up the tree, we just decided that it was a good opportunity to finally move it out. We had a problem, though. We couldn't remember how it even got into the house in the first place. It had to be through the front door, as the garage door was broken when we originally bought the house, but try as we might we couldn't wedge it out the door.
(As an aside, I was still dressed for church when we started moving the thing out of the house. I helped move the couch in a dress and church shoes. If I'd been wearing a hat, it would have been perfect.)
We finally realized that since the couch was being thrown away, we didn't have to be careful with it, and so the only way to get it out of the house was to shove it over the stoop railing and into the front yard. Steve guided it over the edge and I pushed it until the point where gravity took over and then shoved it. About that time, the neighbor lady turned the corner to see a couch being forcefully ejected from our house. It never fails. Oy. We managed to get it to the street and out of our lives forever! Thank you, couch, for providing seating for so many friends!
Of course, until we manage to get another chair or something, we have nowhere for people to sit comfortably when they come to visit. Slowly but surely, we are making our house as inhospitable to others as possible! Maybe next we can get a piranha filled moat!
2) I know I said I wasn't going to talk about Butler anymore, but I lied. I miss him so much. In some ways, I think his dying has been harder on me than when we had to put Bear down. I honestly think I'd stopped thinking of Butler as a dog (I didn't forget he was a dog, so don't call the men with the nets) but he'd become more like a short, hairy roommate who watched TV with me and who I shared chips with. We were bros. I talked to him all the time and we took naps together. He knew all my secrets. After Bear died, we spent a lot more time with Butler inside so that he wouldn't get lonely, and I think it kept me from being lonely, too. Now that he's gone I keep thinking that if I'd just known what was wrong sooner, we could have gotten him to the vet in time. I hate to think his last couple of hours were scary and painful. He tried to let us know he needed help, but we didn't understand in time, so I feel like it was my fault he died. I feel less like I've lost a pet, and more like I lost a friend or family member and it's really weird because he wasn't human. Some people understand, but others don't. His absence is very conspicuous and I feel it every time I'm at home. I even feel bad about vacuuming because I know that his fur will eventually be all gone and as much of a plague as it always was, I don't want it to be gone. That probably really is weird.
Another strange thing is that people keep trying to give us dogs! I love that they are trying to help and want us not to be sad, but it's like losing an uncle or something and someone saying "Oh, I'm sorry, but here's this other old guy you can hang out with!" We can't get another dog until I'm sure that I won't expect him/her to be like Butler, because that would be unfair.
Anyway, I miss him a lot. Not even otters are helping me.
3) So, enough with that! Feelings....gross.
4) Have I ever mentioned how uncomfortable I am to go out with people who are cheap? I'm not talking about people who are conserving their money for some reason, or who don't have much to begin with, but honestly, outwardly, cheap people. They are so rude and the worst of it usually comes out in those people when you go to restaurants* with them.
The other night, I had dinner with an otherwise delightful friend who asked how much a certain menu item was. After finding out, they LOUDLY exclaimed that it was a rip off, and that they (the restaurant) could just keep it! Then he went on to talk about how much it was and how he could make 5 of them at home for that price. He just kept on. I wanted to sink into the floor. I've also had lunch with someone who once got the cheapest thing on the menu, and then literally spent the next 10 minutes after the meal bragging about how cheap the thing they ate was! I wasn't sure if I should congratulate them for being thrifty or if I should smother them with a pillow for bragging. I don't care how much or how little money a person has, we can all trim our sails in one way or another to hang out together, but seriously, don't talk about your money. It's crude and embarrassing, and there is never a good way to respond to it. Also, be nice to your waitress/waiter. Unless they are purposefully treating you badly, you have no reason to take out your frustrations on them!
Sorry. Bad restaurant etiquette bothers me as much as bad museum etiquette does. Apparently, since I'm practically perfect in every way, I can judge. Sorry!
*I realize I'm saying this as someone who once left a restaurant because of how much the set menu price was, and I will defend myself by reminding you that if I'd known in advance and was cool about it, we would have stayed and eaten there, it was just too much to spend without planning AND I didn't make a scene about it.
5) We had a guy come by today and ask the pastor about the moral implications of selling weed, as a way to raise money to start a business. I would normally no talk about things I hear at work, but that... I don't even have anything witty to say. That's just stupid.