What the Daddy Tomato told the Baby Tomato

Ketchup!

Catch up.

Er... right. Ya had to be there. Or here. At any rate, I managed to tell myself for two nights running "must log on and...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz". I woke up at 5am on the couch andI'm here to tell you that couch hair is scarier than bed hair.

Anyway. We have been pondering the idea of moving. More specifically, I have been ranting at every sign of noise next door that "I can't WAIT to get out of here. Can we move now? I'll live in a box. I don't care! Well, I DO, but I don't want to go to jail for oh, say.... feeding them their stereo. As a suppository. SIDEWAYS."

(Ok, my neighbors are annoying but they do not pee on my porch, I will give them that. See That Chick's blog for reference... and a handy lesson in perspective for me. )

So I found a listing yesterday for a single-family house and the price seemed good. Almost TOO good, considering the neighborhood and it was a 4 bedroom house. I immediately called the agent and his assistant and the assistant again and the poor assistant ONE last time to schedule a viewing for last evening. (You may call me a crazy, stalking nutcase, I prefer persistant.) And then changed back into work clothes, jewelry and pantyhose for this occasion. Even added some perfume. Husband was giving me a bemused look and he was probably thinking "hell, she doesn't put this much effort into going to work!". But I certainly don't want to give the agents the impression that I am willing to live - or could be CAPABLE of living in - a cardboard box.

I have these weird paranoid moments sometimes.

At any rate, he was grumbling about an extra 20 minutes on the commute... until he saw the place. Did I mention the golf course?? Did I mention that my husband is a Golf Man (I even see Big Break VI in my SLEEP at this point. Gah. )??? Plus the parks and lakes right there in the development. Very family-friendly. AND... (we keep coming back to this part) the neighbors are far away. Ok, 50 feet or so. That's FAR in comparison to sharing a common wall with the no-home-training trio.

So we will be humbly putting our names in and hoping for the best. Please think good thoughts for a Gerbil. Does a Gerbil not Deserve a Break Today? I certainly hope so.



Also: Under Random Weirdness? Yesterday I was sitting at a red light. It turned green and I started to depress the gas pedal. Clearly I was not fast enough for the late-model Honda behind me, who honked and then zipped around me after we turned. When I stopped beside same car at the next light, I had to do a double take.

I was honked at..... by a NUN. True fact. Nuns got road rage. Or road irritation. Road annoyance?? Whatever. I was too slow for a nun.


And I close with a Very Gerbil Story, which actually happened to my sister.... but its funny.

She has a passel of cats. Big cats, small cats... 4 cats. And they loved these little fur-covered toy mice with the passion that only cats can show when they feel like it. My sister kept them in a quart jar... jar o' mice. And did those cats crowd around when she brought out the jar? Oh yes... the awarding of a Mousie brought on at least an hour of running, batting, leaping, mouse-chasing fun. They were Mousie Junkies.

Anyway. Fast forward to Easter and my sister was hosting a whooooolllllle bunch of guests who'd never been to her house. It was an old farmhouse, mind you, and the cabinets didn't close tightly. This is key.

So all the guests are milling around the living room when the small herd of cats comes thundering down the stairs and through the living room. The oldest cat apparently has a white toy mousie by the tail and the other cats are jealously trying to take it from him. The cats tear into the kitchen and the guests hear my sister shriek and all the cats come running back into the living room, where the prize is summarily dropped onto the rug for all to see.

What the cats have is NOT a toy mousie at all.

It is an OB TAMPON that they have cadged from under the bathroom cabinet and gotten unwrapped. And they are squabbling and chasing each other for possession of it, apparently thinking that it was a rather cottony mousie.

She has yet to hear the end of it.