For THREE reasons:
A new ("used") washing machine has taken up residence in my wash room. I love her. Sincerely.
The ironic thing is that I used to have the exact same top-loader model before I bought my front-loading nightmare. For 11 years my old top-loader and I lived in perfect harmony. Then I bought a front-loader so I could "save money" on water/detergent, only to have that theory shot down because I spent so darn much in service calls. So here I am, four years later, buying the exact same (but newer model) machine I had for the earlier 11 years.
CSA time is finally here, and yesterday I retrieved my first box of the season. Radishes became radish dip, the kids had a blast removing the kernels off the popcorn cobs, and tonight we'll feast on a bok choy stir fry. Plus I was smart enough to purchase a Mushroom share and they are fab.u.lous.
Vitolio Jeune is safe on SYTYCD! We are totally rooting on this incredible Haitian dancer. I don't know what type of crack Tyce Diorio was smoking when he came up with that klunker of a Broadway routine, but anytime anyone draws a Tyce Broadway routine it's pretty much a kiss of death. And I'm still not too hot on his dance partner. What was up with her solo dance last night? She looked like a puppet being flung about by a puppeteer on acid. Ugh. So we'll just hope for a better draw for our favorite man next week.
Look at me, all tv-analytical--ha! Seriously, though, I love this show. I generally consider TV to be the ultimate waste of life, but I am so willing to hand over a few hours of my living each week for tv like this.
On a totally different note, today is Friday. I cannot friggin' believe how quickly this week has passed. How did we get to Friday already? I feel ill at the thought of all I want to get done before we leave in a little over a week.
So I'm declaring next week to be Ultimate NestFest '09. Jimmy, "Grandma" Sandie, Becky and the Mister: I love each and every one of you for participating in this harebrained scheme of mine. You are all up for sainthood in your willingness to indulge a mother in her last-minute adoption nesting mania.