The Evil One
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This is Six Dinner Sid.
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Mistah Buttahs in the dog house @ my sistah's house.
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Here's the other half of the story of the Too Big Love Seat and the Too Narrow Doorway and the Marine Who Wouldn't Take Impossible for an Answer.
That same day that I did all the packing and moving, was the day my work study student turned in her keys. She graduated in December, so this is the last we'll see of her. The enormous pre-move project that she did, that relieved me of a lot of work, was cataloging the departmental library. It was a huge task and thankfully she was capable of taking it on.
The end result was a massive spreadsheet that detailed all the books in the library by author, title, publisher, edition, year published, etc., etc. It was of particular importance because the library went into storage and will remain in storage for the duration of our move. When it comes back, I'd like to have a way to confirm that all of our books return to us.
The Day of the Love Seat, when the student worker turned in her keys, she also turned in the zip drive that contained the library inventory. The only other copy of the inventory was saved on the hard drive of a laptop. I intended to make another back up copy that day, but other things intervened, and I went home without doing it. Yesterday, when I prepared to make a back up copy, I came upon two sickening discoveries--the laptop hard drive was fried, utterly unsalvageable. And the zip drive? Nowhere to be found. I remembered the student giving it to me, but beyond that moment when I'd had it in my hand, I couldn't remember what I'd done with it. I couldn't find the student's keys, either. They were together, I presumed, perhaps run off to Vegas together.
This morning, the other shoe dropped. Can you guess what I did that night I was so tired, after I'd wrestled with the Love Seat That Blotted Out The Sun? I jammed all my dirty moving clothes in the laundry hamper and fell into bed. Where was the zip drive? In the pocket of my jeans, where it valiantly rode through the wash and a 40-minute drying cycle.
I found it this morning, loose in the bottom of the dryer.
I plugged it into my computer a few minutes ago, without a lot of hope. I figured I'd get an error message or an unformatted drive message or corrupted files or...
It works. It works just fine. I'm not taking any chances, of course. I promptly saved the data to another drive, then copied it onto a different zip drive and a CD. But the little zip drive still works and the files are fine. All the info there, 138 boxes full of books, 5 months worth of student work.
Whew.
They say laughter is good for your health, so consider this a holidy/new year's gift/birthday gift for Cranky.
Hubbicula's office is in the basement and he's like a dog trying to get comfortable. He keeps moving stuff around and replacing one piece of second hand furniture with another. The one constant has been his obsession with finding a comfortable sofa or reading chair for his office.
Last week, I came home from work after a looooong day of packing and moving, and Hubbicula said, "I bought a sofa!" He was excited, I was tired, but he was really, really excited, so we drove out to Goodwill and picked up the sofa. Actually a love seat. A plaid love seat.
All I could see was that I was going to have to help him haul it down into the basement. So tired. We got it off the back of the truck and through the doorway to the basement. We even got it down to the foot of the stairs, where we foundered. On the right here you'll see Hubbicula using hand signals to indicate his love for me. Or his desire to choke my neck.
The introduction of a tape measure revealed the problem. The doorway is only 30 inches and the hallway beyond the doorway is only 35 inches. The love seat? 37 inches deep and....37 inches tall.
At this point, Hubbicula went on shoving and pushing and pulling, while I debated among a few courses of action: crying, laughing and crying, lying down on the stairs and sleeping, or choking Hubbicula's neck.
I made a few tired and cranky efforts to explain why I thought the love seat was never going to fit through the door, but eventually I gave up. I went to bed and slept, only occasionally awoken by the thumping and pounding from the basement, where something I assumed was being torn up. When I left for work in the morning, the love seat was even more firmly wedged in the doorway. Immovably wedged, so that the only way into the basement was to crawl over the love seat.
Just a few thousand staples later, we peeled the back and pried off the wood infrastructure. After that, it was as painless as...giving birth. We shoved the love seat through into the hallway, and voila! Comfortable seating. Just apply an industrial-sized bottle of Febreze.
And just so you can hear how punchy I was when it was all said and done...another video.
This is the big fan that's supposed to vent the noxious fumes from the remodeling. It's not plugged in, and even if it were, it's just venting down the hallway. Not outside.
The burning sensation in the back of your throat? That means the cancer is working.
I'm not sticking my hands in anything called the Air Blade.
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who else is at the movies on Cinemas? Hindus!
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Because I can't resist a good joke...and they are going to tear the wall down. Good-bye ugly paneling.
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just like the old office.
I'm sooooo tired of moving.
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