Intrigued? Is the siren call of John Travolta's lycra-clad groin just too much to bear? I know. I found myself on eBay last week and came across this fabulous hardcover book. John Travolta: Staying Fit! Can you blame me for not resisting? The pelvic thrust alone got me. There are pages, pages I tell you, full of awesome Travolta moves, including some titillating couples stretching.
So, to celebrate the sale of our home I am giving this book away. Because my coffee tables are going to be packed up for a while. And because I won't be writing regularly for a while, and I want to keep things interesting when I do get the chance. Because I'm pretty sure I'm going to have nothing new to say in the next thirteen days, other than maybe we ran out of bubble wrap, or those whores at UHaul are making a mint on packing boxes.
Thirteen days in which to pack up the home. I can totally do this. And then I may just disappear for a while, to nurse my lobotomy scars, because this is what I'm going to need in order to not over think every detail that must be taken care of in less than two weeks. I keep reminding myself how blessed we are to have even sold a home in this market. There are houses in my area that have been for sale for over a year. So who's complaining? Not me. Just, you know, venting a wee bit of steam so I don't end up in the corner curled up around a packing tape dispenser and a bottle of vodka.
I was starting to get a little emotional about leaving this place, even though we're really excited about the next stage. I've started to forget how cold it gets here in the winter, how the extremely high altitude (we make our home 7,000 feet up in the air) makes everything hard, from growing things, to breathing, to giving birth. I was getting sentimental when a drywaller came in to finish Maddie's room last week. He was in his late twenties, with tousled blonde hair and looked like the kind of guy at home with a beer bong in his mouth. When he came to the door, he told me, "Dude, I totally lived here in the eighties with my buddy's family." [insert Beevus or Butthead style laughter]. "Do you still have those gnarly lofts?"
"Yes, we do. We love those lofts."
"Oh man, so did we. We called them The Girl Lofts. Heh, heh. You know? We took girls up there."
"Huh. Great. My kids have their dollhouses up there. And, um, their sticker collections."
Which took me from, Dear God What Have I Done I Can't Leave This Adorable House to Get me Out Of Here Now, How Long Do Body Fluids Stick Around, Anyway?
So we're excited about the future, although we don't have a firm timeline yet, and I'm not going to miss the lofts. I'll check back here in a few days and pick a winner. I'll print out the names of commenters and pick one. I'll post the winner, and soon your coffee table will support some of the best pictures to come out of 1984.
Good luck, and wish me the same.
