They Call Me Junebug

Is it bedtime yet?

I’m awfully tired today. Last night was busy for me…

I left work, stopped at Home Depot and was in and out in under 20 minutes, which is a record for me. Especially since they already have their Christmas decorations out. Christmas is like crack to me, I can’t get enough of it. I love it, with every fiber of my being. And this year, I have a house to decorate!! We have vaulted ceilings in our living room, and I can finally have the 15 foot Christmas tree that I have always wanted…and I get to decorate it. My husband is girding his loins in tremulous preparation for the neurotic anal retentive Elf that I will morph into within the next few weeks. I’ll let you know if he survives.

Anyway, after the H.D., I swung by the house, grabbed my soccer gear, picked up the dog and the husband and headed to Dallas. My Aunt and Uncle had offered us their “old” couch and chair if we could pick them up since their new sectional was being delivered this morning. Never one to pass up free furniture, especially when it’s practically brand new and probably cost more than my first car, I somehow manage to finagle it into our evening plans.

After fighting for a parking spot in the urban hell that is Uptown Dallas, we grabbed a bite to eat at a tapas bar close to the Auntie’s place. The nice thing about snobby Uptown Dallas is that they have an inordinate number of “Pet Friendly” restaurants, which until last month meant nothing to me. Now with the acquisition of the Big Puss (also known as Davie) they suddenly have a certain appeal. So we took the pooch and sat out on the steamy patio and had great food, in a hurry. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to sit back and relax and really enjoy the food, or the Knock-You-on-Your-Ass sangria, since we had places to be and couches to move, but it was good. It felt really odd to take the beast inside a restaurant, even just to get to the patio. He dwarfed most of the inside tables meant for two and could have easily snagged a morsel of anybody’s plate as we walked by, but he didn’t.

After a rushed dinner, we drove around for 10 minutes trying to find the condo that I’ve been to numerous times, and of course my husband was driving. When he drives, my normally stellar sense of direction (bordering on idiot savant status) goes to hell in a hand basket and we spend most of the trip yelling at each other because he can’t drive AND follow my directions and I can’t give him directions nicely enough to suit him.

Eventually though we found it, loaded the really nice couch and chair into the truck, and then were gifted with the coffee table and end table to match, as well as the area rug (which probably cost more than my current car) they didn’t want. Thanks to my aunt and uncle, we have nearly furnished our house in very nice, if slightly used furniture and accessories. It’s great! I know some people would turn up their nose at “hand me downs”, but having grown up on yard sale clothing, a year old piece of furniture from one of the swankiest boutique’s in Dallas doesn’t phase me a bit.

After we wrangled all the furniture into the truck, we bungeed it down, said a prayer and got on a raceway headed for a soccer field on the exact opposite side of the world from Dallas. I ran around like an idiot for 45 minutes, got muddy, got fouled, got tired, and finally got home around 11:30 last night. By the time I got cleaned up, let the dog out, and got in the bed, it was well after midnight, which prompted me to start being cranky and dreading my alarm this morning in an pre-emptive attempt to get it all out of my system before I woke up this morning.

This morning I was sore, cranky, scratched, bruised, and even more tired. AND I woke up thinking it was Friday. That hurts. I'm also sad to report that my pre-emptive strike did nothing to help my humor.

I will be glad when it is Friday, and infinitely happier when it is Saturday. I’m getting old.

posted by The Call Me Junebug @ 2:15 PM