I somewhat randomly met a long-time reader recently who immediately wanted to know about The Tire. (Which is admittedly better than wanting an update on my menstrual cycle.) (HATE. THERE'S YOUR UPDATE. BUCKETS OF HATE.)
Where is The Tire? And what was the deal with The Tire?
The Tire is no longer in our basement or foyer or being used as a festive centerpiece. It is, believe it or not, actually on Jason's car. Enjoying the open road, freedom and the Japanese auto industry dream.
The deal with The Tire was simple: Jason's car only has room for a patch kit in the trunk. So he went and bought The Tire on eBay so he could also have a full-size spare. He rolled The Tire into our foyer. And left it there.
He said he might just go ahead and replace one of his current tires -- he thought it had a leak. This was the story for...a couple weeks? I think?
If your tire has a leak you should replace it, I would tell him at least once a day. I know how you drive. You're going to have a blowout and lose control and die. Replace the damn tire and get it out of the foyer. Nag nag nag. Also, get some more life insurance.
Then he said no, there wasn't a leak after all. He was just going to keep it in the attic storage for awhile. And yet the tire stayed in the foyer, occasionally drifting closer to the stairs, only to roll back to the foyer anytime anyone wanted some booze from the liquor cabinet.
Please put the tire up in storage, I would tell him at least once a day. It smells funny, and Noah is starting to crawl and wants to touch it all the time. Get the damn tire out of the foyer. Nag nag nag.
(Some people might just finally lug The Tire up the stairs and into storage their own damn selves. I do not believe these are the type of people I could be friends with in real life.)
So I posted photos of The Tire online, hoping he might be shamed into moving The Tire.
He didn't even notice for at least a week. And when he did, he carefully read all the entries and comments and said that since everybody seemed to love The Tire, it needed to stay in the foyer. Where it could continue to be loved and photographed, and hey, Amy, when you pull down on your face like that I can totally see under your skin into your eye sockets. That's cool.
Anyway. That's my marriage and welcome to it. 10 years next August, folks. Send wine.
The Tire was still in our foyer the day I interviewed our real estate agents. They wandered around the condo, making suggestions for decluttering and depersonalizing the place before going on the market. They stared silently at the tire for a few seconds, wondering if they needed to state the obvious.
Eventually, The Tire ended up in a rented storage unit for a few months before coming home to sit in a new foyer. And then Jason put it in the basement for Valentine's Day. And there it stayed for many months, until Jason ran over a nail and lo, The Tire was called into active service.
Thus ends the saga of The Tire.
Thus begins the saga of Light Bulb Watch 2007.
This is the ceiling fixture in our living room. I don't like it. Jason doesn't like it. It looks like the eye of that thing that lived in the trash compactor in Star Wars (also known as a dianoga, and OH MY GOD I KNEW THAT OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD), which I actually wouldn't mind since I imagine the long neck would actually be adjustable and I could shine light somewhere else besides...straight down.
We bought a new fixture right after moving in, but blah blah blah drywall internal support male-female electrical bzzzzzt I don't know. We needed some special thing to do some thing and HOLY CRAP GET TO THE POINT.
We have a new light fixture. We have all the necessary special things to install the new light fixture.
About a month ago the light bulb in the old fixture burned out. Jason said, whatever, don't bother replacing it, I'm just going to install the new fixture.
The light bulb is still burned out. I truly believe that replacing the light bulb will mean the new fixture WILL NEVER EVER EVER get installed, because Jason is a man of action only when things are actively pissing him off. But this also means I'm the one left explaining to guests why our living room is so dark and offering everybody flashlights.
So even though taking the cause to the Internet did not necessarily work for The Tire, I am trying again.
Just don't say you love the Eyeball Lamp. It really has no endearing qualities like The Tire.
(Some people might just learn how to install light fixtures their own damn selves. But these are just not my sort of people. Why waste all that effort that could otherwise be spent on perfectly good bitching?)
(Don't forget to vote everyday for your favorite parenting blog -- even if it's not this one. Especially if it's not this one.)
(I can't help it, people. I got a couple emails from a couple of my favorite fellow nominees who were all, IT'S ON, BITCH, and then I got all twitchy and competitive and threw the Monopoly board at their heads and challenged half the Internet to a crate race.)