top 10 blah blah blah: numbers 7-1

I'm growing weary of this list. So here's the rest, Reader's Digest-ed. Or Campbell's-ed. You know, condensed.*

For all of you who haven't been playing along, here's the recap:

10. Health problems.
9. Leaving sucks.
8. Technical difficulties.

7. You can't spell "hurtle" without "hurl".
Upon finally arriving in California, waiting for a short eternity at baggage claim, loading all of our earthly belongings onto the rental car shuttle bus and then cramming it into the bread-box sized trunk of our rental car, we folded ourselves in for the final leg of the journey. Google suggests that the drive from Sacramento to Benicia will take approximately 1 hour, 20 minutes. The rental car clock read 4:48 pm when we pulled off the lot. We rounded the corner about 3.3 miles from our destination at 5:52 pm. 3.3 miles to go at 5:52 pm. Yes, those details are important.

Had I the time or inclination, I could probably figure out how fast BG was driving in order to make such good time. I'm sure there's a mathematical equation based on things like the distance, the number of traffic impediments and the speed with which LG proceeded to spew forth all of his stomach contents. That suggested dosage on the Dramamine bottle? That whole "...[take] ¼ to ½ tablet every 6-8 hours..." thing? Turns that you have to take more when the 6-8 hours are up. Otherwise? Everything eaten and stewed in stomach juices, yet not quite digested might just project itself in stunning Linda Blair fashion upon rounding one too many corners at hyperspeed in a car the size of a tuna can. Who knew?

6. A-hunting we shall go...
18 houses. 2 days.
LG and I probably made it through less than a dozen of the properties our realtor took us to. BG was more valiant and staunchly marched through them all. In the end, we wound up making an offer on the first house we saw.
Pretty, no? A little on the ridiculously-large side, but pretty, nonetheless. Oh, yeah, our offer was accepted. So this is the new house. Ta-da!

5. Welcome to California. May we quarantine your stuff?
Yes, seriously. Apparently Philadelphia is a hotbed for the dreaded Gypsy Moth. California, it turns out, is anti-Gypsy Moth.

"Gypsy Moth free in '53!"
"Keep our trees strong and stout! Keep those Gypsies out, out, out!"

An appointment has been scheduled for an inspector from the Department of Food and Agriculture to inspect the following for Gypsy Moth evidence:
  1. Flower box
  2. Ladder Huh. The 5 footer we kept in our closet?
  3. Garden tool Singular?
  4. Lawn chair Again, singular?
  5. Wheelbarrow For all that hauling of dirt and manure from one end of the balcony to the other?
  6. Lawn chair Oh, here's the other one.
  7. Lawn furniture So why so specific for numbers 4 & 6?
  8. Lawn mower For the lawn we grew from all the dirt and manure we had to haul.
  9. Picnic table Fit so nicely on that lawn!
Wheeeee! The fun continues!!!!!

4. Did I mention the Almost Two Year Old?

3. 375 boxes.
And that's just counting the ones they remembered to put little green stickers on.

2. 4000 sq feet.
1.75 tree-houses could fit in this place. If it weren't for Anne's timely advice, I'd still be lost.

1. And finally, the number one reason I've been so bad about posting lately?
I got nuttin. But at least I'm done with this stupid countdown. Somebody slap me upside the head if I start something like this again, please!

*You don't have to laugh. I think I'm funny and sometimes that's enough. This is one of those times.



anne at said...

So very jealous you are getting that house. Very. But love you. So am conflicted.

Luana said...

Good words.