1. I read Clash of Kings, the second installment of the Game of Thrones series by George R. R. Martin. I liked it while I was reading it, and I honest to goodness cannot tell you why or what I liked about it and I’d forgotten all about having read it. I had been really excited about more Danaerys because she was such a favorite character in the first book (and the first season of the HBO series), and I was very, very disappointed in her appearances. Also, there were like forty extra pages of appendix and excerpt material at the end of the book, and I was really sad when the book ended about forty pages earlier than I thought. I’d sort of hunkered down in a cozy place to finish out the book, and although it wasn’t a terrible ending, I was not prepared for my cozy reading evening to be interrupted like that.
2. I totally got tools out of the garage and busted into a bedroom that had locked and shut itself and drilled right right through the doorknob to get the damn thing opened. Nobody really knows when the door was locked on account of it having been latched into an open position, and unlatching the door to vacuum behind it set it free. While we were out, a cross breeze did us in. It wasn’t even one of those locks you could pop open from the outside with a tiny screwdriver or anything; this had tumblers and pins for some unfathomable reason). I mean, I can fathom why a door lock had tumblers and pins; I cannot fathom why a lock of this caliber had been installed on this door in the first place. It’s the other bedroom that has the wet bar in it. I cannot fathom why we didn’t replace this door knob when we replaced the door knob on the bathroom after the baby locked himself in it. (He played happily with the toilet paper the whole time I was removing the door knob.) I suppose we’d gotten used to the door being latched open (I was so sick of that door slamming shut in a room that had no need for privacy) that we’d just forgotten about it.
I had intended just to pick the lock with a bobby pin and a tiny screwdriver, and dutifully followed the instructions of the guy on YouTube who was only filmed from the neck down, but I couldn’t make it work. Calling a locksmith seemed like using a hammer to remove a fly from my friend’s forehead, as the cool kids like to say. (The cool kids do still say that, right?) Plus we didn’t really have time to wait around for the locksmith because we had big plans to swim and the bathing suits were behind that locked door. Drilling was my only option.
I learned how hot drill bits could get in the process, and I broke off a drill bit (the 3/16th) in the lock, but a needlenose pliers reached in and enabled me to unscrew it from the lock and proceed with a sturdier bit. It made some fierce noises, and it took longer than I thought, but I did remember to lay out a towel to catch the metal filings that flung themselves out of the way of the drill and I did wear safety goggles. I don’t think I’m going to bother to replace the door knob for a while (see above about latched in an open position) and good fun was had by all.
3. I totally snatched a fruit fly out of the air with my bare hand, but when I opened my hand to see if I caught it the fly flew away. But then I got it by clapping my hands around it and squished it on my palm. Little fly, thy summer’s play and all that. The rest of the fruit flies buzzing around the computer screen have not taken that message seriously. They came in on the pineapple, which has since been consumed and they don’t know what to do with themselves.
4. I finally had the kitchen in a state of preparedness to spread out and then assemble a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, and then I didn’t do it. I’m sort of annoyed that I let the chance slide by, but you know. It would have made breakfast more difficult. And I don’t think I can assemble it in time for dinner tomorrow, even though I have a card table to catch the overflow. I might still risk it.
5. We finally upgraded Little Miss to a twin bed from the toddler/crib mattress she’s been sleeping on that she really, really didn’t fit in. It’s a Fjellse, which is Swedish for “The Best IKEA Has to Offer.” We went with a local mattress and Grandma is making a quilt for it*, and we spent the day out and about. The kids got left at aforementioned Grandma’s house while we went and picked up the mattress and brought it home, and there were only a few moments of weepy disappointment when they realized that Daddy stayed at home to assemble the bed while I went to bring them home. Little Miss was transported asleep from the car to my bed while Fella came to terms with the fact that he could only help with laying the slats on the bed frame, placing the mattress, finding a stud in the wall, attaching the dresser to the wall, drilling holes for the lamps and then mounting the lamps and putting the new sheets on the bed. Little Miss was transported still asleep from my bed into her new one, and I expect she’ll wake up either terrified at the wildly disorienting changes or gleeful that she’s a Big Girl now. Either way, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it, probably right at the best part of my dream. They are good, my dreams.** It’s a shame to interrupt one.
**Not like that, you perv.
I guess when you take the time to sit and list things like that, it does seem like I’ve done something with my time. That’s always nice, isn’t it?