Saturday, August 6, 2016

In which Primo really does get rid of a bunch of newspapers - from 2011 - that he had been saving in his office

It's Saturday night and things are about to get crazy around here.

In which Primo misunderstands the fundamental purpose of a clothesline

Primo: Did that towel blow down?

Me: No. Why?

Primo: Because it's pinned differently from how I did it.

Me: I was taking them down and realized they were still damp so I put them back up.

Primo: You did not pin them with the same care and precision I did.

Me: No. 

Primo: Why not?

Me: Because the purpose of hanging clothes on the line is for them to dry. Period.

Primo: But you are not doing it right.

In which Primo continues to bring The Sexy with his musings that he might clean out the old newspapers in his office

Being in Primo's office stresses me out because it is full of stuff. Stuff on the desk (including the Leaning Tower of Visa), stuff stacked on the narrow ledges of the bookshelves in the tiny spaces left over from the books, stuff in piles on the floor. Every time I walk in there, Primo panics and says, "Don't touch anything!" which is hard to do when there is STUFF ALL OVER THE FLOOR.

It's a Pre-Hoarder environment.

When I was in there last week and cranky about something - oh - there was STUFF all over the guest room  as well, including stacked on my filing box, so I could not get to my filing, I suggested that Primo get rid of the 24" stack of old newspapers that he had been accumulating for years.

He got all panicky and said he couldn't make a decision about that NOW because THERE WAS TOO MUCH GOING ON and I countered with It is possible to make a yes or no decision ANY TIME and KEEPING OLD NEWSPAPERS IS NOT A PRIORITY and he got mad and told me it was his office and his business, which is true, but when his office spills into the rest of the house, then it is my business.

I also informed him that when he drops dead, I am throwing away EVERYTHING and not looking at any of it to see if maybe possibly it should be saved.

That was a week ago.

Last night, Primo came downstairs.

Primo: Maybe this weekend I will get rid of those old newspapers in my office.


Primo: I keep thinking I will read them - I saved them for political articles.

Me: But you haven't been reading them.

Primo: No. And I am thinking I never will.

Me: And if you really want to read old news, you could always go online.

Primo: Yes.

And then I smiled and kept my mouth shut because when you win, you don't want to spoil the moment.

Thursday, August 4, 2016

In which I meet the neighbor of the horrible, awful (but we did not do our due diligence so we share a lot of the blame) campaign manager Primo used for his first campaign

My friend Dawn, who was a Peace Corps volunteer in Panama, and I went to a Returned Peace Corps volunteer happy hour.

I have not been going to RPCV events since I moved here from Memphis. My friends Leigh and Megan and I started the RPCV group in Memphis as a way to meet men. It worked for Megan - she met her husband, who was a volunteer in Chad, through the group.

Leigh and I did not meet men via the group but we met a lot of really nice people who are friends to this day.

Our philosophy for the Memphis group was, "We've done our volunteer work and now all we want to do is have a party."

The philosophy for the group here blesstheirhearts is "There is no social event that cannot be used as a fundraising opportunity."

Which is fine. They get to do it how they want. But I don't want to donate $25 every time I hang our with RPCVs or even $3 for a potluck. Potluck should equal free.

OK. I am being a bit of a bitch here. The three dollars for the potluck is because they have it at a county park and you have to pay to reserve the shelter with the picnic tables. And they buy some beer.

But. I haven't been going because 1. I don't want to pay and 2. I don't want to Do Good and 3. I hate leaving my house anyhow.

Primo saw that there was an event and said I needed to go - that I was turning into a hermit.

I asked Dawn if she wanted to go, hoping she would say no and I would be off the hook and could watch "Inspector Lewis" in peace and then read some "The Nest," of which I have read only two chapters but am already loving because it is about greedy, self-centered people who have lived way beyond their means in anticipation of an inheritance and I AM THINKING, "TED!" THIS IS ALL ABOUT TED! WHO LIVES BEYOND HIS MEANS AND THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO INHERIT AND HE DIDN'T!

But she wanted to go so I was stuck and off we went.

And of course we had a really nice time. It was at a bar, so I didn't have to make a donation, although I bought Dawn's drink because she had driven.

I started talking to this very cool woman who had been a volunteer in Morocco. (We are now finally getting to the point.)

She lives in Town X.

"That's where the horrible campaign manager my husband hired lives," I said. "She's on the city council now. I can't believe you guys re-elected her."

(I know. This is not a wise conversation to have with a stranger. However, if it turned out that Morocco Lady was friends with Campaign Manager, well, I didn't want to be friends with Morocco Lady.)

ML shuddered. "I know her!"

Me: You do?

ML: She's my neighbor. I have mixed feelings about her.

Me: Why?

ML: My neighbor across the street is an artist. She was building some stuff - molds for casting - and using some chemical Campaign Manager didn't like. So CM reported her to the police.

[NB CM is ultra left, which is a category that I am thinking does not usually think well of the police and is always on guard against a police state - and I concur, as I also do not want a police state - but calling the police on your neighbor for a project she is doing in her own garage seems to be excessive use of police force if you ask me. So really, CM is just a hypocrite - she doesn't want police power to be used against her, but as long as she is the one calling the shots, she is fine.]

Me: What?

ML: The police came and shut my neighbor down.

Me: Had CM even talked to the neighbor first?

ML: Nope. So yeah - she's really not a friend.

Me: OK. You and I can be friends, then.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

In which Primo has no interest in returning cleaning supplies to their home after I have cleaned the kitchen sink but thinks that fairies take care of the items he leaves stacked on the cookbooks

1. We have cats who like to tear around the house, including on top of the cookbooks
2. The deal was that Primo would be in charge of the house stuff while I go to work.
3. The guy is PBK. He can figure out where stuff goes.


Monday, August 1, 2016

In which my sexy husband talks about THROWING THINGS AWAY

I got rid of more boxes from the guest room and the upstairs hallway.
like - out of the house?
or just moved somewhere else wher you think I won't find them?
They are in the recycling.
They were empty emoticon It wasn't really hard work.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

In which Primo the engineer completely misses the point of the story, which is not an accurate recounting of the dates he was in California but rather joy that he might go back to his old job

Remember how Primo said that the reason he couldn't get rid of the old manuals from his old job - the job he quit in October 2014 - was that he might return to that job?

Which shut my mouth because HALLELUJAH would there be a happier ending for me than Primo returning to his old job, i.e., the job where he works at home and hence does not need a car which would mean we would not have to buy a second car and the job that pays a Silicon Valley salary even though we are in a place considerably less expensive than Silicon Valley.

I was 'appy.

We went for a walk. We stopped by my friend Danette's house to deliver the copy of Rowing Without Oars that I had accidentally had sent to my house rather than to my mom's. I had gotten the book from the library and liked it so much that I ordered one of those one penny copies from where you pay one cent for the book and $3.99 for the shipping, which is fine, for my mom, only I entered the addresses wrong and had my mom as the bill to rather than the ship to.

Rather than go to the PO myself to mail the copy that came to me, I just ordered another one penny copy for my mom and decided to give this copy to Danette, who loves to read as much as I do.

While we were at Danette's, we chatted, as one does.

Danette: Primo, when are you going back to work?

Primo: I don't know. I am really busy with the campaign.

Me: But he might be able to go back to his old job!

Danette: Oh?

Me: A few weeks ago, he went to California to see his stepdaughters and the new baby.

Primo: It wasn't a few weeks ago!

Me: What?

Primo: It was in February! That is way more than a few weeks!

Me: So what?

Primo: You are telling it wrong.

Me: The point of the story is that you had lunch with your former co-workers and they were telling you about open jobs.

Primo: It wasn't a few weeks ago. It was longer than that.

Me: Danette, do you see what I have to deal with every single day?

In which Primo doesn't want to get rid of the (stinky) perfume that Doris liked (do alcoholics lose their sense of smell? I know smokers do)

Me: Can we get rid of this perfume? You were going to give it to your mom and you never did. Even though I said you should just put it in the mail to her.

Primo: I like that perfume!

Me: I don't wear perfume and even if I did, I would not wear that.

Primo: Maybe I should save it for my next wife.

Me: May. Be.

In which Primo gets totally stressed about getting rid of cooking stuff we have had since we moved into the house eight years ago and have never used


I got Primo to agree to donate

  • two frying pans 
  • a small saucepan 
  • a large wooden cutting board (that he bought years ago and I have never used because I prefer the plastic flexible kind I can roll and guide veg into a bowl, although the plastic ones do melt when left in the oven and the oven is turned on - don't. ask.)
  • a set of white towels he brought into the marriage that I hate because they shed and we don't give to guests because we already have a set of blue guest towels
  • the red t-shirt sheets we bought and used once and loved but then discovered attract cat hair like no other thing in the world
  • the old mismatched tupperware that we put in the basement when we bought a set of Rubbermaid where all the sizes stack nicely
  • some wedding gifts that we have never used but have been taking up space in the china cabinet
  • a bunch of three-ring binders that contain nothing
  • printer paper that we will never use because it is 8x14
  • Yahtzee
  • Four jigsaw puzzles I bought at Goodwill for 50 cents apiece and that we have already put together
  • Primo's bread machine
    • Me: I will make you bread from scratch any time you want
  • All the candles I brought into the marriage and we have never used
  • a pod coffee maker that may or may not work
  • a wooden serving tray I have never used
    • Primo: But what if one of us gets sick and needs to have food brought to him in bed?
    • Me: You can go hungry
    • Primo: You are mean
  • A bunch of silver plate stuff - small plates, salt and pepper shakers - that I got from Goodwill thinking I had gotten a great deal only to realize that the Curse of Polishing the Silver was now mine.
  • Five emtpy boxes. Yes. EMPTY boxes.
    • Primo: But what if we move? Those are the boxes from the coffee thingy/other stuff.
    • Me: We. Can. Get. More. Boxes.
What I could not get rid of
  • Two different frying pans. That we have not used in the eight years since we moved in.
  • The waffle iron I got at the Rochester Minnesota Goodwill for 25 cents when my dad took me thrifting - it only works on a gas stove, but Primo promises he will take care of replacing our horrible electric smoothtop oven - WHICH I HATE - with a gas stove
  • The foam thingy that goes on the sofabed in the basement. My philosophy is that our guest accommodations should not be too comfortable.
    • Primo: But what if one of us dies and we need to put people from the family up?
    • Me: If you die, the only people who will stay here will be my mom, my sister, and my brother and my brother can sleep on the sofa without it being folded out. Ted will not be invited to the funeral and even if he does come, he is not staying in my house.
  • This plate, which I made for Primo while we were dating. He is sentimental. I am not.

Primo freaking out upstairs before coming down to the basement:

Me: Could we please get rid of this stuff from your old job?

Primo: Stop! I'm busy!

Me: You said you were working on your mom and dad's taxes.

Primo: I'm editing photos from the delegate meeting today. Look! Daphne got doughnuts made to look like Bernie!

Me: Those are cute!

Primo: I  need to get these posted.

Me: But you said you were working on the taxes. I think you need to pay a penalty.

Primo: What?

Me: How about getting rid of these three binders from your old job?

Primo: NO! I can't make a decision about that now!

Me: You quit 18 months ago. Even if you would go back to your old job, you would get new materials.

Primo: STOP!!!!!

Me: Why can't you make a decision?

Primo: I need to be able to focus on it! It's not a good time!


Primo: Leave it! Besides, what if I go back to OldJob? That might be useful.

Me: Oh, right.

Primo: It is a possibility, you know.

Me: Well all right.

In which Primo discovers houses do not stay clean just because you have cleaned them and we talk about selling porn on Ask a Manager, my favorite blog

1. Houses get dirty

Primo: But - it looks like I need to clean the tub again!

Me: Oh. No.

Primo: But I just cleaned it last week!

Me: I know.

Primo: But I just cleaned it!

Me: Houses get dirty.

Primo: I don't like housework.

Me: Neither do I.

Primo: But you did all the housework when I was working and you were not.

Me: Yes. But not because I like it. I hate cleaning house.

Primo: You do?


2. Porn sells

On Ask a Manager today, there is a discussion about garage sales, so being a person who always has to give my opinion, even when it is not requested (I am working on that), I had to talk about Primo's experience with the garage sale for Sly and Doris' house.

Remember that Primo drove around until he found a dumpster far from Sly and Doris' house so he could get rid the box of porn he found in their closet?

The brilliant commenters on AAM noted that he could have sold it.

Apparently, vintage porn that is - um  - clean - is in. Who knew?