My day started innocently enough, I took my BFF to an appointment for an MRI at the crack of dawn. I was there not only for moral support, but also for transportation because they were going to have to trank her like a bear slated for relocation to get her into the MRI in the first place. After I dropped her little stoned self off at her house, I came home to tackle one of the many projects I've procrastinated on for pretty much all of the years I have lived in this house. One of my first projects was to take an arse load of stuff to Goodwill. This included my great-grandmother's bed frame and dresser set that had been mine from the time I was 12. Now, most might think I would keep this for sentimental value, but I'm pretty much over it. It's taking up space, collecting dust and I have other plans for that room. So, time to 86 the stuff I no longer use. The dressing table was the only piece I was concerned about getting downstairs. As I chivvied my offspring to hurry up this morning, I gently eased the dressing table down the stairs. ka-THUNK! ka-THUNK! ka-THUNK! I winced with each step thinking a) it was a good thing the kids were already up and b) this sucker may be kindling by the time I get finished with it. After my ferrying duties, I went to my parents house to steal my dad's truck and trailer. On the way there I decided that all this stuff could actually fit into the bed of his truck, which was fortunate, because I wasn't completely sure I knew how to hook up the lights for the trailer, which might pose a problem. I pull into their driveway and am immediately struck by the lack of truck. My father is on the umpteenth restoration of his '56 Chevy not too mention that the '65 Corvette hasn't even been started yet and the chassis and parts are strewn about like the aftermath of Hurricane Pops. What's the matter with these people? Don't they know they should have taken the gas guzzling, air polluting SUV on their trip, thereby allowing me free, illicit reign with the truck? I don't even have a hitch on my Tahoe, so I couldn't jack the trailer either. Never one to be despondent for too long, I put my superbly twisted mind to work and figured I could take the seats out of the Tahoe and just make several trips. I arrived back at my own house and took the third row seating out. Now, one of the "selling points" at the dealership was how easily these seats were removed. They fold down, you grab the handle, and voila! The look like a suitcase and are carried just as easily. Except for the fact that the bumper for the Tahoe hits me about mid-pelvis, these seats when I grab the handle are at chest level and I have to lift them up to my head to get them out of the back. Easy? Did I mention they each weigh about 70 pounds? During this weight training exercise I found myself engaged in, I noticed that the rear of the car could use some vacuuming. Then I flipped the second row seats forward. The foulness found therein is not to be described. Crackers, unknown substances, toys....unbelievable! But what can you expect with two young boys and a double coated dog who sheds like a chemo patient?

I loaded the dressing table, stool, bed frame, and several other items into the back of the vehicle for my first trip to Goodwill. This is what the back of the Tahoe looked like:

Not too bad really. Although my usual 4th turn at Daytona style of driving was impacted because of the side rails just inches from my head. I was afraid I would take a turn to fast or something and this sucker would end up embedded in my skull:

And really, if I end up on Ripley's Believe it or Not, I want it to be for something really exciting and not for having a 6 foot piece of wood hanging out of my head like a parasitic twin.

Off I go to Goodwill, to say sayanora to some of my worldly possessions. Everything went along swimmingly until we got to the bed frame. It seems that Goodwill's goodwill does not extend to 50 year old wooden bed frames. Plan B: Pierce County Solid Waste Transfer Station. Otherwise known as the dump. That works for me too, just get this crap outta my house! The dump was pleasingly dry. I have been know to have to visit when it was soggy and slimy with a primordial soup of Zeus knows what, which does nothing for the ambiance, let me tell ya. I dumped off the bed frame as I was getting into the car felt some dump detritus slide into my Keens. Motherfucker! Had I known that I would be visiting the dump I would have worn closed toe shoes, preferably thigh high, but as it was I wore my Keens and now had to soak my foot in bleach to guard against whatever multi drug resistant organism to which I had now been exposed. Yecch.

Back to to house for another load. This load consisted of two drill press boxes full of Norman Rockwell figurines that the hubster had purchased many moons before he met me. They had never once, in all these years, been out of their original boxes. This is indication enough for me that they need to bless someone else's home.

I got home and then tackled the wonderful job of de-gunking the car and replacing the third row seats. That was only marginally more difficult than removing them, like to the 10th power, since I now had to avoid banging up my paint job.

I spent a greater part of the rest of the afternoon cruising ebay like a sweaty Chihuahua who had eaten it's owner's meth stash. The boyz are getting a Wii for Christmas. And that's all they are getting, you practically need a home equity loan for one of these suckers.

In other news: FB usually listens to country music as he falls asleep. Last night as I put him to bed, I thought, "What sounds like Metallica?" Apparently, the boy is being influenced by his mother's car tunes.