34 Crabapples for an Idle AC

I moved this weekend, which is my convenient excuse for being a bad blogger.
My new place is great though. You should all come over. I have a fireplace and a sink with two spickets. And there is a fallout shelter in my basement. And the laundry room has current magazines.
Yea, you heard me.

I am currently fighting the urge to try to be a superstar hero winner and install my 655 pound air conditioner in my bedroom window. Because it is one million and 50 degrees in here right now, and my down comforter can die. But it really weighs a lot, that air conditioner. And I'm almost certain that I'll drop it directly on my toes, or, even worse, my foot (ha. those are, like, the same thing). But it's right there with my name on it, literally in sharpie at the bottom. [okay, fine, that's not true.]

What else? I hate gas stoves. I am pleased with their even cooking ability, sure, but the funny flamebutton of horror people call the pilot light? Absolutely horrifying. Can't we technologify that in some way so it never goes out? Someone? Anyone?
No? Okay. I'll just fear earth-shattering explosion with every casserole. That's fine.


Blogger kate.d. said...

hahahaha! remember at 1325 comm ave, when we had to re-light the pilot light for the first time? i thought you were going to die. and i was like "biotch, if you drop this metal stove cover on my hands, i'm going to kill you!"

but you didn't. i was very proud of you :)

12:04 PM  
Blogger Stacey said...

Oh, the stories I could tell you about my pilot light over here on Day St! I won't, though, b/c I can tell you're pale already. Glad to hear things are going well, babe. Let's meet for coffee soon!

1:41 PM  

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