All the pretty things I WANTED:
(1. Scooter, 2. Kitchen table, 3. Kitchen cabinetry, 4. Crown molding, 5. New front door, 6. New non-back-breaking bed, 7. Fancy camera, 8. A pretty wedding)
(1. New bed, Sick Cat #1, Sick Cat #2)
First of all, I'd like you all to say hello to the new love of my life, our ridiculously expensive (even though we got it for half price on Craigslist) Tempurpedic bed. I am in love with this bed already. I want to call in sick for an entire week so I can do nothing but lie on it all day long while the million tiny little swiss citizens inside it massage my back.
The only problem with that plan is that it's still propped up against the couch in our first-floor living room, as we need about four people with superhuman strength to come and carry it up two very narrow flights of stairs for us. Ability to bend the laws of physical space would be a plus, as we thinkit's going to bend up around the corners, but we can't be sure. It's a whole lot thicker than our other mattress. You know, because of the millions of tiny little swiss masseurs inside it. If it turns out to not bend around the corners, would anyone be willing to lend us their helicopter for the weekend so we can airlift this thing into the third-floor bedroom?
And in cat news, Maxwell isn't doing so, um, well. We begin kitty chemo this week. Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds. He just gets one extra pill every other day, his hair won't even fall out or anything. Kitty chemo is just aimed at relieving pain and slowing down cancer growth, so it's only about 1/10 as aggressive as human chemo.
Sadly, Madison, never one to be left out, appears to have kitty cancer as well. It wasn't nothing, after all. I'm still hoping it's actually his thyroid (which could be fixed), but something is definitely wrong with him. I'm really, really sad, of course, but I'm taking this all pretty well (if I do say so myself). Maybe it's because I'm in denial; both Max and Mads are still acting like their normal, happy selves... knocking over unattended glasses of water, licking Joel's morning cereal bowl when he's not looking and staring menacingly at the stray cats outside the window. Or maybe it's the millions of tiny Swiss citizens in my living room. Either way, things are good at the moment, and I'm just sitting here, trying to move that mattress up two stories with the power of my mind, and simultaneously hoping like heck that the thirteen bucks a month I've been paying for Madison's fancy health insurance isn't going to call whatever he has a pre-existing condition.