Tidbits

Here is one aspect of my new world to celebrate: CLEAN dishes that required nothing more than me putting them in little racks in a metal box beneath the counter in my kitchen. This is what's known as a "dishwasher," something I haven't actually used since, like, 1994.

I put the dishes in the rack, pop a tablet of something into a little box and, voila!, clean dishes. So much better than that back-aching business of standing at the sink and scrubbing all that junk off the plates and forks with what was invariably a germ-laden scrubber of some sort. Just a beautiful thing.

... Yesterday, my d.i.v.o.r.c.e., such as it is, was "finalized." That means our finances were officially and completely separated by buying me out of the house. So I took this whopping check to the bank and deposited it. While doing so, I asked for $100 in cash. I'd like that all in quarters, I said to the teller.

She looked at me as if I was a bit off. "You want $100 in quarters?"

Yeah. And I'm thinking: It can't be all that strange for someone to ask for all those quarters. But I wasn't sure what to make of her look, so I added, I have a lot of laundry to do.

... Given this abundance, I decided that before I launch into the life of a frugal, unemployed, unsupported graduate student, I should buy myself *one thing* that I've wanted for a long time: a new bed. Specifically, it's the sleigh bed (aka, "the Love Sled," in the words of S2 and her man) that I've mentioned previously. I had a specific one in mind. It's got a 48-inch-high headboard and a substantial footboard (as any decent sleigh should have).

I decided to get one made of solid mahogany, one of my favorite woods. I have a strong affinity for wood. Some might call it a fetish, but I haven't actually sexualized the stuff. I just like to touch it. A lot. So I was in the shop where they make this sleigh bed, and I was touching the nice rounded top of the headboard of the floor model (it was cherry), when this woman walks up to me and says, "You're not actually going to buy a bed this expensive are you?"

I didn't hesitate: I most certainly am.

"Why would you do that?" she asked. (And I was thinking: Uh, seems Dr. R has a complaint about the high cost of consumer culture; is this a saboteur sent to dissuade me? Or is this woman working for my mother?)

Because I'm never going to buy another bed again. This one will outlast me. (Ha! Take that, consumer culture! Buy something good once, rather than buying repeatedly! Send nothing to the landfill!) Then I added, When I die, someone will be very lucky to get this bed.

"Well, you're *young,*" the woman said. (And let me tell you what, people, that is the first time I've heard those words in FO-EVUH. I *love* my new hair color; praise be all the saints in heaven!) "I haven't got that much time left myself." (She's got 20 years easy, if the actuarial tables have anything to say about it.)

That got me to thinking, so I did a little math to see just how much that bed will cost me each night for the rest of my life -- if I live as long as the actuaries bet I will. I decided it was a price worth paying. Even more so if you subtract the $60 delivery fee, which I will pay when the bed is finished in a couple of months.

... Speaking of deliveries, I got a cabinet to hide all my books and CDs. I don't like to see clutter in my environment, and so I also got a cabinet big enough to hide just about everything, including me and the dog, if necessary. But I came within perhaps a hair's width -- literally -- of having bought a cabinet too big to fit through the entry hall of my loft. Ooops! I watched the delivery guys struggle with this absurdly large cabinet for a good half an hour before they finally figured out how to wedge it down the hall. Nearly took the trim off the doors. Actually had to remove one of the doors to make it fit.

It became obvious that it will be the biggest nastiest heaviest mother fucker to move *out* of here, as well. So I said to the delivery guys: When I leave this place, can I call you guys to get it out of here? To which the gentleman overseeing the big burly moving guys replied: "Actually, we'd prefer it if you *lost* our number."

'Nuf said.