I hate to admit this because it’s rather Scroogey but it drives me bonkers when people wear bells around the holidays. There are a few women at my job who do, including one who wears bell earrings AND a bell necklace. In all honestly every time she jingles gaily by my office I want to rip those bells off her person and shout, “Santa has heel spurs and type 2 diabetes!” Naturally I refrain from any such behavior but in my mind it happens along with a myriad of other fantasy events such as me and Robert Downey Jr. engaged in a naked, brownie-baking tete-a-tete.
This weekend, Moxy’s boyfriend came to the rescue and put together my IKEA dining-table-cum-sewing-desk. The speed with which he did this compared to my ineptitude in such endeavors is terribly mortifying. In my mind, the project would take hours and maybe even require a backhoe and an overnight break but he whipped that mother into one piece in no time, pausing only to take off his shirt and chest heaving like a brutish Satyr, ask us to rub his pectorals with oil. Being unfamiliar with the etiquette of carpentry, Moxy and I had no choice but to comply and beware of splinters.
The box my desk came in was too awkward and heavy for me to lift out of my trunk so I figured I’d ask whoever I paid to put it together to haul it inside. In typical me fashion, it’s been in my trunk since I bought it last summer. Pete estimated that the box weighed about 100 pounds. I just realized that now that it’s out, I’ll probably get better gas mileage!