I have to tell you about the funniest show I watched last week called The Good Place, in which a “bad” woman ends up in Heaven by mistake. Who doesn’t love Kristen Bell? Who doesn’t love Ted Danson? Who doesn’t love a story about the afterlife? Find it on Netflix, and wait a few weeks for the second season to begin soon on NBC. A witty bit in the show is when our main character tries to swear (which isn’t allowed in Heaven), so her curse words turn into “Fork!” and “Bullshirt!” and my very favorite, “Holy Motherforking Shirtballs!”
I’ve been trying to incorporate those “almost” curse words into my own lingo, which is especially helpful when I’m raging at the zillions of self-driving Waymo cars constantly cruising through our neighborhood. When I first spotted these abominations in March, I found it interesting. By May, I was thoroughly irritated . . . and now I’m simply unnerved! Seeing that bulbous-roofed vehicle on every street on every day . . . even Sundays (!!!) is just wrong. These cars have cameras on them, and how is that legal??? Every time I see one, I say, “Forking Waymos” and give them a special hand gesture. I contacted a city council member to ask if the city is getting kickbacks and the answer was no. I’m on the HOA for our ‘hood, so I know we were never asked permission, nor are we getting any money for the inconvenience to our neighborhood. Last week, I contacted Waymo by email asking when they would be done here and requesting they move on to another neighborhood, citing the fact that our neighborhood was designed specifically to reduce traffic and that having eight Waymo cars constantly driving down our streets is not something any of us likes. I’m waiting for a response (and am not holding my breath) and will continue to say a heartfelt, “Fork You” to each vehicle that slows me down on the way to the grocery store.
In other news, last week I was super crazy happy to be getting rid of SO MUCH STUFF from my house and donate it to be sold at our high school’s annual percussion garage sale. You may recall my horror at entering our ASU rental home after I evicted our daughter and her roommates to find they had left so much stuff behind. Hand on the Bible, it looked like they had merely stepped out for lunch. The kitchen was fully stocked with pots, pans, and silverware, the fridge and the pantry were full of food, and there was even a wet towel left in the shower. There were couches and dressers and desks. I was so happy to take all of that (in multiple trips in my small Prius) over to the school for sale.
I was also ecstatic to get rid an ugly antique velvet chair which we inherited from Hubby’s grandmother. Hubby likes to hang onto stuff; he is not a hoarder, but is really sentimental. The Grandmother Chair came with much history: GG Mom always told us, “When I’m gone, you must take this chair that Ms. Hoff from across the street gave me. It’s one of a kind; it’s so special. Promise me you’ll take it!” So of course, when she passed away, we had it shipped from Decatur, Alabama, and it’s sat collecting cat hair in the spare room for 12 years. I was puzzled why the chair was so important. Friends suggested there was cash hidden inside (no). I tried to sell it to an antique store, but no luck. So on Friday, I snuck it over to the school garage sale, feeling so happy to un-clutter my house, and feeling pretty good about the fact that Hubby would never notice.
Well. Saturday morning we woke up and were each looking at Facebook. Hubby says, “It looks like the Percussion Garage Sale is today!” I responded, “Hmmm, I bet everything is pretty much gone by now.” A minute later, Hubby says, “HEY! Is that my grandmother’s CHAIR!” ACCKKK! Somebody had taken a pic of the goods for sale and posted it! I held my breath and I waited for World War III, but Hubby was actually very sweet about it, especially after I checked to make sure said chair had been sold to a happy buyer. (We have toooooo much stuff, and it makes me crazy!)
I hope all is well with all of you during this crazy weather week. PLEASE, Mother Nature, help us out a bit. Hurricanes? Fires? Floods? 111 degrees when I get in my car to come home after school? I’m sending SO MUCH positive energy into the Universe for all of those who are struggling in the hurricane and fire zones. We have three empty bedrooms if anyone needs a place to wait out the disasters.