Adrian Cronauer

I loathe the wet heat of August in Minnesota. It makes me crabby and out of sorts. I can't think of anything good to say or think about it. But then I remember this quote, from Good Morning, Vietnam:

The weather out there today is hot and shitty with continued hot and shitty in the afternoon.

That movie was from a summer when I had no job, no responsibilities, and the freedom to spend every weekend hanging out with friends and being young. It makes me smile to remember, even while I wish for the coolness of an autumn night.

Before you begin....

I feel that I must preface this post with a disclaimer: I do not work for IKEA and as much as I might wish otherwise, I'm getting nothing from mentioning them so often in this post.

So you saw my new bed. I am rather fond of it already. I picked it up at IKEA, bastion of inexpensive furnishings to assemble on your own. In case you've never been to an IKEA.... Saturday's not usually the best time to shop there - but it was the day I had time to go, and so, I went. At least I was wise enough to use the product finder on the website, so when I arrived, I could go directly to the self-serve warehouse and pick out what I needed. Aisle 30, Bin 24 & 25. Aisle 28, Bin 3.

A small problem - apparently, IKEA does not expect you to be a single woman shopping alone for a queen size bed. The box was big, and rectangular, and over my head.
Workaround for small problem:

1. Walk to end of aisle.
2. Press "help" button.
3. Wait.
   

See cute tall guy who had previously held door open to self-serve warehouse. Smile.

"Do you need some help?"
"Yes, actually, I do. The bed I want is too large to take down from the shelf by myself"

Cute tall guy helps manuever 63-lb rectangle from shelf onto unwieldy cart, with combination of head, arms, deftness, and commentary on the difficulty of shopping at IKEA alone.

I politely offer my thanks for his help, and another smile, and proceed to the checkout. While standing in line, I mentally kick myself for not even asking Cute Tall Guy his name. Because he was helpful. And cute. And oh well, it's too late now because I'm paying for my bed and I need to go home and put it together and OMG would I *really* ask for someone's number at IKEA?!

Home again, I work on a variety of other house related projects through the afternoon. After dinner, I decide I should put my bed together. I open up the 63 lb rectangle, look for the helpful assembly instructions, and discover that - yes, I really should have asked for Cute Tall Guy's number:

See that?

• Flat head screwdriver.
  
• Phillips head screwdriver.
  
• Bed assembly buddy.

IKEA... why didn't you put that on the outside of the 63 lb. rectangle? Why?!

Lesson learned - if a nice, cute, tall guy offers to help with a bed - it's probably a good idea to at least get his phone number.

Home, at last.

Since I moved into my house, I've been sleeping on various surfaces that aren't always comfortable... air mattress & hide-away couch... I'm talking to you.

It's a survivable method of sleep, but I can't recommend it as a long term solution. It just feels temporary to sleep on transitional surfaces, like crashing at a friend's place, or borrowing a couch for cheap lodgings while on vacation.

This weekend though was another milestone of sorts. I have my own bed. My own place of sanctuary and rest. My house doesn't feel like a place to crash... it feels like home.

Love affair

Hot. Dark. Strong. Steamy. Rich. Exotic.

Coffee. I love coffee. I love the sensual experience of opening a fresh bag of coffee beans, the first scent of Guatamalan or Sumatran beans. The texture of just the right grind. The aroma as a the pot brews. The deep rich brown of a freshly poured cup. The heat that leaks through the ceramic into my hands. The whole experience wakes me up.

It's a simple pleasure, and an affordable luxury, and I cherish that.

I enjoy the memories of working in a coffee shop, and coming home smelling like espresso. It took me forever to learn the proper technique for foaming milk for cappucinos.

I remember being pregnant with my babies, and the smell of coffee making me want to vomit. I remember how long it took me to be willing to try coffee again after that.

Coffee... you've been good to me.

On and Off Weeks

I've just switched over to an "off" week, when my perfectly fabulous and completely exhausting (at times) children go to their dad's house. As custody arrangements go -- this one is not so terrible. They have equal time with both of us. I get time to myself to work on projects around the house and go in early or stay late at work as needed.

But I hate the first night they are gone. I hate how quiet the house is. I hate not getting to snuggle them to sleep, or sing their songs, or listen to those bedtime tales about their days. My heart aches, my arms ache, and I regret every cross word I spoke in the last week. I know I can't change the past, and that controlling the future is really more a general guidance than absolute control - but on these nights when I switch to an "off"' week - it's hard to not wish things were different.

But I can't go back - I can only go forward, and must do so knowing that sometimes it's just going to feel "off."


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Related:
This write-up has informed a large part of the separation and agreements about the life we want for the kids: http://www.divorcehq.com/billrights.shtml