Yep, that it is… around here anyway.  "Why?" You ask?  Well because yesterday we got us a brand spanky new Dishwasher!!!

Yay!!!

Because, you know, we’ve been here for 2 months and we haven’t had one in all that time.

Well, other than me. 

And Bob.

But I don’t think he qualifies for the title of Dishwasher with all the honors and accolades that go with that august title.  Yeah, because I caught him just rinsing the dishes in hot water.  Not actually washing them.  So I don’t think that qualifies as "washing".  I believe you have to actually put the sponge on the dish in order to be considered washing.

Everybody, all together now…

DAMN IT BOB!

There is a little of the shine gone from the moment because I had to threaten the Rental Agency in order to get my new household helper. 

I told them, and I quote…

I don’t care if you bring in a small child to do nothing but stand on a step stool and wash dishes all day long, I need something in this house that washes dishes that doesn’t look like me!

Yeah, I’m a barrel of Monkeys to deal with.  Just ask Bob. 

But, don’t demand, don’t get.  And thus, the brand spanky new dishwasher.

Yay!

Today Dishwashers, tomorrow a new dog door?

A girl can dream.

And I’m looking at it right now because I’m feeling the need for some introspection. Because I got an email two days ago that has really made me see some new realities about me and my life today.  Today I guess I finally started recognizing and accepting the fact that my life has changed.

I am getting older.

Getting. Older.

And I don’t know about you but those are some really scary words for me to type or write. Or even say or think.

And, truly, the glimmering dawn of this realization is causing me untold angst like I haven’t had in a very long time.  And the cause of all this drama? Oh, a little thing. Well, okay, maybe not so little, but then again probably it is. Because that email was from a Recruiter. For a very large company. That is currently hiring my dream job. That rolls up every position I’ve ever had and allows me to use all that experience in one job. In a field that is probably as safe as anything out there.  And the skills I would be able to grab from this would kick me completely up to the next level, and probably solve any financial issues we will ever have. And it’s in a perfect location for us – low crime, great education system, cultured, urbane, liberal. Wait, let me retype that last one – LIBERAL. And the company? It’s truly stellar. Great work environment, amazing corporate culture, creative and nurturing environment, and highly supportive management. It’s like a Google or Microsoft on first blush. It’s the level of company that is really hard to find anymore.

But there’s one problem.

Isn’t there always? Yeah, always.

Never can anything that good be perfect, never. Because the problem is in the category of “dealkiller”. Because the perfect company, with the perfect job, is in a great location for some people. But not for me.  Nope.  Because that perfect job, with the awesome company? Is in Madison, WI.

Jeebus help me, Madison, WI.  Ugh.

Yeah, that place would probably be classified as the sock capitol of the world. And it is also in the running for one of the cold weather capitols too.

Can you say BRRRRRRRRRR?

But there was a day when the only concern would have been the weather, and that would have only been a blip on my radar. It wouldn’t have even slowed me down. I wouldn’t have had any angst, over anything. Back in that day, this would have been a done deal. In fact, I would have probably sent them my resume yesterday and started packing my boxes today. But that day isn’t this day. That day is long gone. That day was fifteen years ago. Not today.

And that’s why I’m so angsty over this, because there’s a part of me that really wants to be fifteen years younger. Not fifteen years older like I am today. Because then I could move on this opportunity quickly, without any concern for anything.

Anything other than the whole sock issue, that is.

But I can’t. Move on this, that is. For a few reasons, all of which are because of the fact that today I am older. And growing older means you get baggage that you didn’t have when you were younger. Things like two parents and two step-parents who are all growing older too. And none of them will ever be accused of having what I would call spectacular health. And trust me when I tell you that it’s already a concern that none of them live closer than 7 hours away. So, 18 hours? That’s not even something I can consider. So, that means that this email? And this dream job? They’ll be staying in the dream category. Because all the negatives rolled together make this a no.

Well, all that, and the fact that I like our life here. There’s that too. Because I really do. Like our life here that is. It’s very good actually. We are at peace. And I can see us growing old here. And that’s something I’ve never envisioned anywhere. Because I wasn’t going to do that. Grow old. But I am. Slowly but surely, whether I like it or not. And at this stage in my life, with possibly more of it behind me than there is left to go, I have to remember the important things. The things that count. The people that count.

Which means… (drumroll please) … I’m getting older.

So as much as I’d like to say "yes, yes, pick me pick me!!!"… I’m saying no. Because I don’t live to work. I work to live. I am more than my job or any career success (which bytheway is fleeting at best).  I am my life – with all those people in it, and I wouldn’t trade anything for that life.

Not even that Treehouse Conference Room or the gourmet Cafeteria.

Yeah, really. I know. WTF?

Yet another conversation yesterday as we sorted, categorized, and alphabetized the DVDs: 

Him: How are you filing this stack?  

Her: Oh, those are all classics, they go together.  

Him: I understand 12 Angry Men & Gone with the Wind but Apocalypse Now? Really?  How do you figure?  

Her: It’s easy, they’re all old.    

Him: Okay, so old equals Classic.  Well then, I’m old, am I a classic?  

Her: No, you’re mostly just weird, with a little Ass Hat thrown in for fun.  I’d definitely file you under Indies.

And yes, in my house all the DVDs are categorized and alphabetized. I know, amazing.  It’s probably one of my more endearing OCD traits.  And he doesn’t share it.  So you can imagine the fun we have with this one…

KABOOM!

(which is the sound my head makes when it explodes after I find The Dark Knight misfiled – again – under either B for "Batman" or D for "Don’t care where it goes" or H for "I’m in a hurry and I’m just stuffing this in wherever, she’ll never notice".)

Welcome to Saturday!  In the coldest place on Earth – relatively speaking anyway.  And in honor of that cold, we’re staying home and unpacking.  And cleaning as we sort and unpack.  And pitching out a bunch of crap.  A bunch. 

Yeah, really.

I know, you’re shocked.  We’ve been the poster children for hoarders for so long, why change now?  Why?  Well, because it was time.  Because I’m tired of carrying around a bunch of dead weight.  On my butt and in my boxes. 

There’s a trend here.

Anyway, today’s victim was the bathroom.  And boy is it organized and cleaned out now!  Yay us!

But when I started the cleaning all I could say was…

BITCH PLEASE!!!

Because whoever Sista Woman was who lived here before?  She had her some long wildebeest hair.  And she had a 2 can a day Aquanet habit to go with that furry mess.

No kidding.

I had to seriously spray down all the tile with scrubbing bubbles, let it soak, sponge it off, then spray the Earth-friendly treehugger spray I would prefer to use all the time.  And then I sponged that off and paper toweled the whole mess. 

And that was after I soaked the Plantation blind in Clorox in the bathtub for an hour. 

Yeah.  A whole hour.

And lets’ don’t even get into me having to use my Scum Buster to scrub the tile around and behind the toilet.  Disgusting doesn’t even begin to describe that.  I think I threw up a little when I had to touch the hairs. 

All. The. Hairs.

But it’s clean now.  Next!