Happy birthday to me

First, thank you to all four million of you who wished me a happy birthday. I tried to respond to each message, but Facebook may have had apoplexy. Y'all sure make me feel loved.

To reiterate what I said on Facebook: I want more birthdays for everyone. In lieu of gifts, please consider donating to my Relay for Life efforts. I have lost two more friends to cancer in 2018, not including Jim's father, who had multiple health problems. It's only March. Click here if you wish to donate. (Of course, those of you who already sent gifts? Thank you, too!)

I had a pleasant birthday with my menfolk. Boy actually managed to be off work for a change. We had lunch at Tucano's, one of our favorite special-occasion places, and saw A Wrinkle in Time at the fancy-schmancy theater with the recliner seats. I tell you, I could get used to that. Then we went shopping and I bought a silly amount of chocolate for myself. And a shower curtain, because I'm exciting like that.

The final step of Tax Return House Upgrades took place on Sunday. If you've been to my house in the last couple of years, you know our couch and chair set was well past its prime. We loved that set, and looked into reupholstering it, but it would be far more than the set was worth. So we visited a bunch of furniture stores to figure out what we liked, and eventually found it used.

That was a bit of a deal, too. The seller lived on the other side of St. Louis (of course) and the eight-foot couch was NOT fitting in our teeny car. So we rented a U-haul van, with which I immediately fell in love and did not want to give back. We drove out there, picked up the furniture (literally) and found out that a) it's super heavy and b) I am much, much weaker than I used to be. I remember actually being able to lift weights, and now I am spaghetti arms and my hands can't seem to manage a decent grip.

To add to the fun, Boy was called in to work, so on the drive back we were madly calling anyone we could think of who was just sitting around thinking, "You know what would really improve a sleepy, cloudy Sunday afternoon? Moving furniture."

God bless Jessica Barnard, our dear friend and neighbor who showed up with her little one to help; and our landlord, who got our message a little late and was of great assistance. The four of us (trading off with baby, who was not having this) managed to get the chair in easily, but then we had to remove all three doors to the house to get the couch in.

Now we know. Nothing bigger than that couch can enter my house. We reached maximum size. It amazes me that we ever got my desk up the Narrow Tower Stairs of Doom.

Of course, that's when Jim had to go to work, so I returned the van with Jessica following, then Jessica took me to rescue my car, which we had abandoned in Collinsville to make things "easier." I swear, the plan made sense in my head.

We ribbed Boy a good bit about missing out on the "fun." I reminded him that he gets free room and board, clothing and tuition, in return for which he's supposed to lift heavy things. (He put the doors back on, however.)

He is resistant to the new furniture. Why? It's new. "CHANGE!" He's not good with change. Fortunately he realizes this about himself, and he will adjust. The couch is lovely, the chair is wonderful, the set is BIG (it kind of eats the living room) and in absolutely perfect condition. Bit by bit it starts to look as if grownups live here, though we still have a LONG way to go in that regard.

Next: Bathroom refresh. Eventually: bedrooms, office, aquarium, and ... the Basement of Doom. Jimmy Hoffa is getting lonely down there.