That car is still here. That car being the one I spoke of the other day. The one I hoped would be sold. It’s not. The guy got here, took one look underneath, gave it a knock and then got up and said, “Thanks anyway.”
Then I tried a sales pitch. I said, as he was walking up the driveway to his own car, “I’ll sell it to ya cheap!” He politely chuckled and kept walking but I persisted, oh yes I did. I then said, “Are you sure you don’t want it? It runs very well.”
To quote one of C’s favorite books, “No luck. Still stuck.” In our driveway, that is.
Mike left a message at the junkyard today. He’s hoping to sell it to them. I’m hoping they just come take it away. If they decide they want to buy it then great. But if they don’t, I’m willing to let it go for, oh, nothing. I think I’ve made that pretty clear to Mike.
Even though I have filled your minds with that very exciting and riveting information, I have even more to type. I know, you can’t contain yourself. Try.
Feel free to discontinue reading as I am about to take a trip down memory lane all the way back to high school.
In the 10th grade I started hanging out with a few girls from the 11th grade. In case you aren’t hip to the high school groove of 1993, that was a big deal and totally catapulted my status around WK. Anyway, through these cool chicks I became friends with a girl. We’ll call her Peggy. Well, becuase that’s her name. PJ for short. Peej, if you want to get it even shorter.
PJ and I became fast best friends. We did everything together. We spent every weekend at eachothers houses – ok, usually her house unless my mom begged me to stay home for once. We loved Mickey Mouse and each had mickey t-shirts and we would call eachother to make sure we wore them to school on the same day. I know, we were VERY cool. Besides being very cool with the mouse shirts, we also thought it slightly rebellious that since girls were allowed to wear ball caps at school and boys weren’t, we would sport them as often as possible (yes, we were such rebels). Her’s was a Yankees cap and mine was White Sox. We traded at one point and I still have hers. I hope she still has mine. If she doesn’t, I wouldn’t be mad. She’s for sure not as big a pack rat as I am.
I could bore you endlessly with our mis-adventures but I won’t.
I can hear you all cheering and you’re welcome.
We went to college, we grew up (sorta), we married boys, we have children. PJ lives in Toronto and has two boys now. R is only 3 months older than mine and her C is 6 months already!
They brought R over to play with my C today. What a riot they were. At first C played shy but it wasn’t long until they were running laps around the living room and chasing eachother while giggling wildly. There’s something about two year old giggles that literally warms the heart. To the core. It was great.
When we were in high school we always used to make fun of the fact that PJ’s mom’s house was always perfect. And if you think I’m kidding, then you are mistaken. Mrs. R had the neatest, cleanest house any of us had ever seen AND she made curtains AND cooked the best food any of us girls had ever eaten. PJ even used to joke about it but we all knew she’d grow up to be just like her. And she did.
So guess what I spent the first half of the morning doing before they arrived?
Yup, I was cleaning. Because sadly, with ALL the time I spent there in high school, none of Mrs. R’s perfectionism rubbed off on me. None of it. But I like PJ to think that maybe it had and maybe I’m a clean and tidy person too.
I don’t think I fooled her. Even with all the work I did this morning my house was no where near as clean as I suspect hers is. In my defence, we have 4 cats and in the summer I would have to have the swiffer permanantly attached to my person to keep up with the fur. It’s true. And oh so sad.
Regardless of the fur and dust, we had a great visit and I’m looking forward to a couple more play dates because she is home for TWO more weeks. Horray for high school friends! And horray for Mickey Mouse, ball caps, turtle vans, locker shots, ringalos, note writing, cheeseburgers with mac sauce, and many other high school memories.