What the Hell!?
What the hell? You stole my what the hell?!?
So if I leave an unfinished project lying around, you post it on the internet. But if you leave an unfinished project lying around it just turns into a new piece of art in the corner?
That earlier post was a checklist I created to help me write a reply to something 4 or 5 months ago. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a checklist of completed checklists so it was relegated to the draft folder for all eternity until Jane dug it up.
And I can hear the blogosphere now. “Ooh a post about checklists? That’s nice!”
I’m sorry, ladies. This is not a post about checklists.
I take time to adjust to new ideas. This is a planned response on lack of spontaneity.
Last year Jane was debating getting rid of her vehicle and we could share my car. She commented on my lack of support for that idea.
“I’m sure you can guess that Ryan was not loving this idea at first.”
As a follow-up, our friend Aurora commented:
“Reading your blog and Ryan’s alleged reactions to your whim has taught me that he is way more boring than I thought. :P
The thought of finding her in my car every day…
I wanted to go on record and say that not only am I a semi-somewhat-occasionally impulsiveperson, I want to convey to you all that you will never understand the level of spontaneity I cope with on a daily basis.
You see, my daily life is kind of spontaneoused out.
Maybe you just came home from a long day of work. What’s that in the bathroom sink?
It’s a mug with a smiley face on it sitting directly on top of the drain, half filled with cocoa/coffee/WHO KNOWS WHAT. Jane’s not even home.
Hey, what’s this on the counter.
Oh thanks, babe! We haven’t had hammered strawberries in ages!
Or you find unsavory characters in your house.
With all that said, I still put a ring on it. While well planned, I think it came across as a pretty good surprise.
And in two months we’re getting hitched.
For better…
For weird…
… or for worse.
I’m going to get into trouble for that one. Here she comes!
To recap -
To-do:
√ Quote Aurora.
√ Complain about women.
√ Be awesome
Mission accomplished.
Posted in 
What the hell? A planned essay on spontaneity
Ladies, it’s my turn to say “What the hell.”
I opened my “drafts” folder this morning to find a post I’d started and never finished. But then I saw this blog post’s title, apparently saved by Ryan.
Here’s what he had written in the body of this post:
To-do:
Quote Aurora.
Complain about women.
Be awesome.
The cat’s out of the bag. Now I know exactly how his mind works.
* * * * * * *
Happy Monday! Did you have a happy Easter weekend? We spent the majority of it on wedding planning, and I had my first mini-meltdown. Details on Wednesday.
What The Hell? The Proposed Abode?!?
Dear readers,
You are now part of the inner circle of people aware that I will be proposing to our lovely host of the Borrowed Abode. If all has gone according to plan, she is clueless as to my intentions for whisking her away on this camping trip. Barring any problems (such as she comes to her senses) (or gets eaten by a bear) (or a hunting accident) she will be returning home engaged.
Do not try to contact her. It will be futile. We already agreed on a communication blackout for the weekend. If that doesn’t work I will be eating her phone. And the buzzing would make me uncomfortable.
All I have to add at this point is that the blog will probably get a lot more interesting in the next few months…and I’m awesome.
Wish me luck!
Ryan
Psst: Curious to hear how it all turned out? Or maybe you just want to see the ring? Hop right over here!
What the hell? I GIVE UP!
She’s not allowed to go with me on walks anymore. Today it’s a giant bamboo pole. And she’s going back to loot cinder blocks and wood scraps.
I can’t take her anywhere.
What the hell? Why are you doing this to me?
I liked my teaser post more than the actual post I planned to write so I was going to leave it there. A suitcase pun in every line is hard to follow up. I was going for the old radio show cliffhanger-endings (or the old Batman tv show). But sufficient wheedling from Jane has compelled me to write up the post she wanted.
It was a gorgeous day. We went for a walk. The sun was shining, the trails were death traps covered in poison ivy, and bikers were aiming for me as they whizzed by at high speeds yelling a doppler shifted “ONYERLEFFFFFFFFFFFT”.
After evading strollers, dogs, homicidal cyclists, and Jane’s tendency to walk into me (I think she has an inner ear issue or brain damage, take your pick), we left the trail and started heading home on the mean suburban streets of North Virginia. (“North Virginia” is so distinct from “Virginia” that it’s usually capitalized like a separate state. We’re thinking of stripping statehood from West Virginia and using it up here”)
Along our way home we walked past a pile of trash. Mattresses, lawnmower, and alas – suitcases. Jane was drawn towards the pile and found the two brown hardshell suitcases. The large-ish Samsonite ones you would see businessmen use back in the 70s-80s.
Then the awkwardness ensued.
First, the homeowner came out. Jane froze in place like the woman could only see moving objects. While it may have worked in Jurassic Park, apparently this woman was not a T-Rex and she was not fooled. She was very friendly and not at all disturbed to find Jane knee-deep in her discards. She let us know that that we’re welcome to anything we would like in there. She started with a large pile of discarded items and people have been coming by all day taking things. We made some small talk.
We took Jane’s suitcases and headed home. First, she was insisting on carrying both. I quickly envisioned walking down our semi-busy street with me not carrying anything and Jane lugging two suitcases. Well, that wouldn’t convey the right manly image. So I took the larger of the two. I could use it as a shield to keep her from bumping into me at least.
We’re walking down the street and through a busy intersection and I could only imagine how we appeared. I was in a Nike workout shirt, shorts, and running shoes carrying a giant brown 70′s suitcase. Jane was in… whatever she calls that outfit… with a slightly smaller suitcase. We’re walking down a busy street, vaguely in the direction of a metro stop in the middle of the hot afternoon. The cars drove by and we garnered quite a few looks as we huffed the last mile home. I really was expecting a few offers for a ride.
On the final stretch, Jane pulled ahead and I whipped out my camera phone to snap the photo. I thought back on all the awkward situations she’s tortured me with and got a bit lost daydreaming that maybe she really was running away from home. And that was what inspired my earlier post.
What the hell? The Homeless Abode edition!
WHAT HAS SENT OUR ADVENTUROUS BLOGGER OFF PACKING?
DID SHE HURRY OFF WITH HER CARRY-ON?
IS SHE TRADING HER BOYFRIEND BAGGAGE FOR RESCUED LUGGAGE?
TUNE IN NEXT POST TO FIND OUT IF THE CASE SUITS!
*Update: Ryan gave in to peer pressure and posted a follow-up What the Hell with the real story.
What the hell? It’s gone. It’s just GONE.
So you saw her version of the story.
I got out the vacuum and started to vacuum the living room, as I am wont to do on a Sunday afternoon. Jane, for some reason beyond my explanation, decides now is a good time to take a nap on the living room couch.
I start vacuuming, nearly killing a plant with an errant power cord. Jane is laying on the couch watching me vacuum. (It was a slow day) She comments on how the vacuum isn’t picking up any dirt. I, too, have noticed that I seem to be just shifting it around. I turn off the vacuum and examine the bottom. The brush is a multicolored delight of threads it has picked up around the house from Jane’s sewing debris. As I’m clearing them off of the brush I see that the intake hose is clogged with dust. An easy fix! WHAT CAN GO WRONG?
As I’m sitting on the floor digging into the innards of the vacuum I figure it’s a good time to clean out the rest of it as well. We have a great Bissell bag-less vacuum (Bissell Cleanview Helix Upright Vacuum Cleaner, Bagless, 82H1 to be precise) that works really well but dust can build up here and there throughout the system. I take out the internal filter and I’m knocking some of the dust off of it when Jane sits up and asks “Want me to throw it on the driveway?”
I pause for a moment, trying to decide if this is some new slang. Did she just offer me drugs? Jane sees my confusion and offers “The filter. I can take it outside and throw it on the driveway to knock the dust off.” Nightmare visions run through my head of the solutions she comes up with for problems when I’m not home.
Being a charitable and, moreover, a lazy person I agree to let her “throw it on the driveway”. She heads outside as I continue cleaning the vacuum. A long period of time passes before she comes back in. (Long being defined as ‘it took more than 30 seconds’). She asks if I could come outside because she lost the filter.
She lost the filter.
All CSI and Agatha Christie fans, get your thinking caps on:
From my recreation of the crime scene, here is my understanding of events.
1) Jane went onto the front steps
2) Jane threw the filter with gusto towards the driveway
3) The filter bounced at least once and probably twice before disappearing under her car
4) Jane saw that the cylindrical filter might continue rolling down the driveway and into the street and rushed to intercept it
5) The filter is gone. It’s just GONE.
6) Jane frantically searches under her car so she wouldn’t get in trouble for losing the filter.
7) The filter continues in its state of being just GONE.
8) Jane re-enters the un-vacuumed abode to summon help.
We check under the car. Practically the entire undercarriage. I took my Droid and set it to video record and waved it around the places I couldn’t examine first hand. There is no sign of it. I check the neighbor’s yard. I check the street curb. I check under my car. Hell, knowing Jane I checked the damned ROOF.
It’s gone. I don’t know how or where or why. I’m still holding out for an elaborate post-April Fool’s Day hoax. The other leading theory is that there is some antimatter singularity underneath her car that ate it.
Other news: I was on Bissell’s website looking for a missing filter and noticed that when I added the part of my shopping cart I was receiving 12 Reward Points. “Reward for what?” I wondered. The rewards for accumulating between 1-25 points are as follows: “Monthly Cleaning Email” & “Online Product Specials”. I think that’s fancy talk for spam. I’m not really an expert in this field, but I don’t think the world of cleaning changes at such a rapid pace that I need a monthly cleaning email. Also, while I appreciate product specials I have a vacuum already. I’m buying a part for it. I’m not planning on buying a new one.
Disclaimer: I am fond of my Bissell vacuum cleaner. It has held up well against 4 pets and Jane. So long as you don’t allow Jane to service/clean/repair any of the parts of your vacuum cleaner I would expect it to hold up for a good long time. Bissell is probably going to read this and add Jane to things that void the warranty.
Note from Jane: What Ryan didn’t explicitly mention is that the Bissell is especially awesome for furry households. It’s got a great rolling brush attachment that makes de-furring your upholstered furniture (and duvet covers, I might add) a breeze!
So you think you’re funny, Ryan?
One evening I came home from a busy day at a conference, and logged into the blog, only to find over a dozen blog comments from Ryan. He must’ve had a slow day at the office or something.
I also discovered some fun comments from others, as well, so here’s a little overview of the nuggets.
In response to “Ironing is Fun Again“ – in which I dish the dirt on my new ironing board cover – he wrote:
I was so surprised that this worked that I wrapped the vacuum and dishes in fabric so that doing them becomes fun again. See? I’m always looking for ways to make you happy!
I’m going to need a few more yards (of cloth!) for the lawnmower too.
As for “Rental-Friendly Temporary Wallpaper {Let’s Take a Risk}” – aka the day I spent 6 hours reorganizing and decorating a coat closet (yeah, fo’ real). What did Ryan have to say? Well, when he read this: “This is by far the biggest decorating risk I’ve taken so far, and I can’t guarantee that it works in the long run. But you don’t know if you don’t try, right?”
I’m glad you’re venturing so far out there in the world of hallway closet decorating. I certainly hope you don’t get blacklisted by the Hallway Closet Home Decor cartel for your edgy space-saving techniques.
Just so you all know, I wanted to start a hallway closet firepit for my National Take A Risk Day link party, but SOMEONE thought it was a little too risky. No sense of adventure! I guess no one gets hallway closet s’mores now.
As for “Vintage Kitchen Additions” – I shared pics of our two new sets of vintage dishes which my brother found in his new house. In regards to the fact that some were still in their original packaging, reader Rebecca had this interesting point:
I am totally cracking up. Because we ALL have friends who are dy-ing for something new for their home, buy it with no discussion with the other half-owner of the family budget, and then bring it home and stash it until they work up the courage to tell The Hubs (or the wife, in the case of fishing rods and electronic gadgets). I’ve seen friends do this with towels, plates, bedding, throw pillows. I can just picture the 1950′s/1960′s housewife charging this on her store account “way back when” and storing it, unused, never getting the courage to tell what she’d done.
I can totally picture this. How hilarious is it to think of housewives 50 years ago doing the same thing we do today? Right on, Rebecca!
In response to “Mistake Turned Great: Kitchen Update” – Ryan registers a complaint about the rug:
Just so you know, you can use these rugs for booby traps too. Apparently you can sprinkle rice, beans, caltrops… all over the thing and the first person to walk barefoot over it won’t notice them until they feel the stabs of pain shoot through their feet.
Oops. Sorry, Ryan. I told the dogs to eat the stray grains of rice and beans! Clearly they didn’t listen to me.
And last but not least, in response to “Stories Rooms Tell” - in which I share a peek at “my” room at my parents’ house,here’s what Ryan had to say when I wrote: “As a matter of fact, I often sleep better there than in my own home.”
That’s because of our cats. You don’t believe me but they use your head as a trampoline in the middle of the night.
Good point. Am I the only one whose animals act as though they’re auditioning for a clown act? Do you even know what Ryan has caught our male cat doing in the middle of the night? Maybe you don’t want to.
I think it’s time for Ryan to write What the Hell: Animal Edition.
