Damn, today went by fast. I spent much of the day trying to catch up on email. I think I’m only about two weeks behind, now. Fear not, dear readers, your response is coming!

I didn’t pay bills like I’d planned, or started packing (we have no boxes, although Himself promises to pick some up from U-Haul on his way home from work tomorrow), but I did vacuum the upstairs, which was desperately needed, and changed out the litter box. But I’ve found that I’ve become veryveryvery lax about housecleaning since we signed the contract to sell the house. It’s like, why should I clean? The cleaners will clean the day we move, so why should I bother to clean before now and then? It’s just going to get dirty again!

Any excuse to hold up the Laziest Gal in the South title.

I’m pleased that the litter boxes will be in the garage in the new house. The garage is also going to double as a gym, at least for a while…

Oh, and I came across an entry the other day on ellipses, and I’d just like to inform y’all that since I myself was once upon a time a waitress/ carhop – and it sucked mightily like I cannot describe – you have to be a pretty damn bad waitress for me to leave less than a 20% tip for you, and more often I leave in the vicinity of 30%.

In fact, I can only think of once in my entire life where I didn’t leave a tip.

Even when I worked at McDonald’s and was barely scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and a whole group of us would go to Denny’s after closing, and I’d scrape up $1.50 for a teeny tiny dish of ice cream, and everyone else was doing the same, we’d at least leave a small pile of promos (what McD’s managers hand out when they’ve screwed your order up beyond belief and want to make it up to you, so they give you "free small fries!" and "free small sandwich!" cards), all our extra change, and a note of apology written lovingly on a used napkin.

I can tell you horror stories of my teenage waitressing/ carhopping days wherein I waited on a family of six with many small children running and screaming around (a usual thing; it WAS a family restaurant, after all) as the parents sat and chatted and paid no attention whatsoever to the little monsters darlings and when they left after two hours, they left a twenty-five cent tip.

You heard me.

But those instances were cancelled out by the elderly gentleman who gave me a 200% tip on a chocolate shake and insisted that I take it. And the stoner couple who gave me a $20 tip on an order of two sodas (drugs = good!), and the couple who could barely afford their hamburger baskets and left me a dollar in dimes as a tip.

Ah well, I could go on, but Eleanor said it better than I could, so go read her entry.

Now that we’ve bought a house, Fred has begun his phase of Freaking Out. He’s decided that the house is too small, and he doesn’t WANT to use the garage as a gym/ litter box area, he wants to use the garage as a GARAGE, and oh GOD Bessie, what the hell did we DO, buying a small house like that???

He’ll continue to be freaky for the next very long 3 weeks, until the day of closing. Then he will calm down and be all happy and confident that we really want this house. At which point it will be my turn to freak out.

It’s nice that our freak-out schedules complement each other so well.