Supposedly Fun Things I Will Never Do Again
Camping. End of sentence.
Moving. I recently moved into a new house and a friend talked me out of hiring movers. Biggest mistake of my life. As I was heaving my couch over my head, I realized that in all the years I had owned this furniture this was the first time I had actually physically moved it. In my opinion, this is one time too many.
Painting. I painted an accent wall in my bedroom when I moved into the new house. Previously the wall was lilac. I decided (with Doug’s assistance) that a dark rust orange would be great in that room. I bought a tinted primer to cover the lavender wall, believing this would actually prevent me from having to do multiple coats of the new color. WRONG. I painted one coat of primer, and three coats of paint. THREE! I will never paint my own walls again.
Change my own oil in my car. HAHAHAHA. As if I have ever even attempted to change my own oil. Until three years ago I didn’t even know that people were able to change their own oil.
Mop the floor. Having a cleaning lady has changed my life. I don’t think I will ever mop a floor again as long as I live. Or dust.
Go to a Laundromat. In my last house, the washing machine broke. Luckily we only had to live with the broken washer for one week, since the new house came with a new washing machine. Sadly for me, I had to visit the Laundromat. Before I did though I called every Laundromat and dry cleaner I could find to see if the offered wash and fold service. Nobody did. In fact, I was treated like a crazy person for even asking. I finally broke down and decided to do my own laundry. I went to a place called Oasis because I liked the name. I arrived at Oasis, loaded up the washing machines and sat down to wait. I was looking around the room full of washing machines and saw a huge sign that said, “WASH AND FOLD SERVICE OFFERED HERE.” I ran to the desk and asked what the cost was. .95 cents per pound! I was sold. I think I actually cried a little. I explained to the girl that had I already loaded the clothes in, but would they finish them for me? She told me no. I spent the next two hours watching my clothes tumble around. Never again.
Sex in an airplane. Kidding. I would never! I'm not that flexible.
Going to a Jazz concert. I had a group of clients in town over the weekend and we hosted them at the Park City Jazz Festival. This experience just reinforced to me that I hate Jazz. Well, to be fair, it’s music with no words that I really don’t like. I just feel like it is such a waste. It’s like having a book with no words. I think God is on my side in this matter also. Halfway through the concert there was a huge thunderstorm, including hail and horizontal rain. After the storm none of the microphones would work. Divine retribution? I think so. Ps. I really really hate the be-bop-a-do-wopping that jazz artists do.
Answer my front door. The past three times I have answered the door when I wasn't expecting company, it has been someone from the local Ward welcoming me to the neighborhood. So far we have had the Elder's Quorum drop by, our Home Teachers and the Bishopric. I think we are going to have to erect an upside down cross made from condom wrappers, cigarettes, beer cans and empty vodka bottles in our front yard. Perhaps then we will be left alone.
1 Comments:
My recitals don't have words...does that mean that you hate my recitals and think they are a waste doll? I am hurt and betrayed!
6:13 PM
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