June 26th, 2009
So, moving sucks.
And I haven’t even done anything yet. But just thinking about it stinks.
Speaking of, I can’t get over the fact that I’m moving into someone else’s space that has (1) Their hair in the drains (2) Their poo ethers in the toilet (3) Their skin cells in the carpet.
I’m obsessing. And so I plan to buy new toilets because I just can’t sit on someone else’s butt imprint. I cannot. It’s a real problem. So bad, I hold my pee when I’m in public. Unless I really really have to go, and then I hover over the seat and close my eyes, because I just don’t want to know what lurks beneath.
So if you know where I can get some nice clean new toilets (not yours), please do let me know. In addition, I am looking for someone(s) to sponsor the following for this move:
- Spousal Mediator. Because The Rock is going to kill me before all this is over.
- Brainwasher. I want all thoughts of other people’s poo ethers and carpet skin cells erased from my mind and replaced with images of strong pine scents and prodigious Lysol clouds.
- Master Life Organizer/Personal Assistant. I need someone to tell me where to put everything I own and keep The Rock from killing me. (This sponsorship may involve tasting all my food before I do.)
- Deal-Finder. I need a new couch, new kitchen table, new patio stuff, new Pottery Barn white train table with paper dispenser for the kids, new skin-cell-free rugs, new light fixtures, new drawer pulls, and probably, a new The Rock.
Thanks for your prompt and careful attention to finding me these sponsorships.
What’s in it for you?
How about if I have you over for some tea and crumpets masterfully prepared by my sponsored Life Organizer/Personal Assistant?
I’ll probably be single by the time I move and could really use the company.