My brain is seriously filling up with things I want to blog about, but each day seems to be filling up with CRAP that doesn't leave me enough time! And right now, I'm racing against a dying laptop battery, and heavy eyelids.
Good news! The movers ("Father and Sons Moving") who ripped us off, pissed us off, and screwed us over, are being investigated here in MA! I'm so excited to call the District Attorney's office tomorrow, and contribute my two cents. (Two cents is about all we have left since they charged us $2700 to move 10 miles. That's after a $900 estimate, damaging our brand new condo, lying about being piano moving certified....and calling me a "racist".) I'm ready to fight.
WHAT are they doing outside our home, every single night between the hours of midnight and 3am? Clanging and shuffling. It's driving me nuts. It seems they, whoever they are, are doing something related to construction, so I don't feel like it's necessarily appropriate to file a noise complaint...ugh!
I think I want to start a daily mention of (at least) one cool/good thing that happened, and one NOT good/cool thing. I think I'll call it they "Daily Great and Gross". Has a nice ring to it, no?
Yesterday's "Great" was that Terence and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary! I'm so lucky to have such a good man for my husband, and I love him so much! We had a really nice dinner in Brookline, with a server who looked and acted just like Charlie from "Always Sunny in Philadelphia". I bought my honey a lobster pot, with the understanding that I will not personally participate in the murdering of lobsters. I will be responsible for the "melting of butter" instead.
Yesterday's "Gross" was pretty gross. Puppy Sara literally ate her breakfast too fast, puked a bit in her mouth, and proceeded to lick my face in a big way. I felt like I was being attacked by a zombie scented make-up remover towelette.
We threw a really nice party for my mother last Friday. I wish I could say the whole visit was nice, but it wasn't. In fact, I'm pretty devastated. But alas, that's a story for another time. Or maybe for my auto-biography...