Blogger, Interrupted

Greetings, my lovelies. My week-long silence has not been intentional, I assure you. Monday my office began moving from our home in the campus ghetto to a slightly more respectable building situated much more centrally. Although I now have to walk up 40 steps to reach my office, I'm hopeful the daily trek will greatly minimize the size of my hips. However, our move has also brought us far closer in proximity to the snack shop, so the effect of the newfound physical exertion (80 steps both ways, but to retrieve a Snickers bar) is still undetermined.

Meanwhile, in spite of my lack of connectivity, somehow life continued on.

I didn't post about it last week, but Dad had to be admitted to the hospital again for six blood clots in his legs that were causing his feet to swell and his right foot to feel cold. He was released last Saturday back to the nursing home and was allowed to begin physical therapy again yesterday, so another down once again turns back up. He has a CAT scan scheduled for Monday and a determination will be made about the removal of his pick line on his birthday, August 28. Hope swells cautiously.

Husband and I also purchased a new washer and dryer this week, ultimately choosing to forgo the creepy crawlies from washing our clothing with the former owners' pet hair, and who knows what else. We got the front loading washer and dryer at an exceptionally good deal and were able to rationalize the purchase a bit more easily because of the final price tag. Yesterday the beauties were delivered, and the movers also brought in our new refrigerator and stove that had been stored in the garage while the flooring and cabinets were installed. However, it was revealed that our fridge doesn't fit. It doesn't fit. It's been sitting in our garage for several months now, just waiting for installation, and it doesn't fit. The drywall in our house was apparently hung by retarded monkeys because the walls are not flat, therefore, the fridge doesn't fit.

Have I told you about this refrigerator? It's beautiful. It looks like a spaceship. I'm pretty sure I could comfortably stand inside, close the door, and fly to Mars in this fridge. I would arrive cool and crisp.

And it doesn't fit.

I don't know what we're going to do yet. Really, I can't talk about it. It's all too horrifying.

On a happier note, the outside of our home no longer looks like an unkempt forest. Husband's grandfather has spent the last few days removing the shrubbery, unwanted trees, and questionable, overgrown landscaping. Yes, you heard that right: we are forcing a man in his seventies to do our landscaping for us in the August heat. And did I mention he is legally blind? We are ruthless, I tell you.

Perhaps the too-large fridge is our karmic retribution. Food for thought.