override | Good Times with Jess

I don’t have to move after all!

I didn’t know that I would cry tears of joy over a town election, but I did.

National politics may still be deplorable, but short of leaving the country, we’re not going anywhere.

We’re so committed to staying that we bought a new sactional for my home office. I do not think it’s deductible.

For Mother’s Day I received this note from five-year-old RB:

I’ll address this in chronological order:

There are people in my family with blue eyes; I am not one of them.

I do not love to eat chicken. My family loves to eat chicken, so here we are.

One of my favorite drinks may be wine… just wondering why the daily coffee didn’t make the cut.

A box of instant mac ‘n cheese is one of my specialties.

I do dearly love to exercise.

I’m not sure what games she’s referring to, but piggy-back ride up to bed is a favorite of mine.

Snuggles are the best.

And snuggles on my new sactional are great too.

I don’t know who has put together a Lovesac sactional before, BUT it made me question all of my life choices.

I’m surprised there was no offer of white-glove service. Not that we would have paid extra for that. I know a guy. But still.

I ended up carrying in all fifteen boxes by myself, including six that weighed fifty-three pounds.

The boxes arrived at 1pm when Captain was at the office and I had dreams of having my coffee (2nd favorite drink) on my new sactional the next morning.

After blood, sweat, so much sweat, no tears, we hit 11:30pm and Captain pondered the pillows. He said,

“I’m wondering if that pillow should be switched with this one.”

I could not have finished the couch in nine hours without Captain, but I also couldn’t find any level of caring about the pillows.

They’re lucky to be stuffed into their cases and they may now go wherever they want.

“I have to go to bed.”

We are less than a week into our 60-day trial period with free returns, but it’s safe to say, she’s not going anywhere.

In part because she’s very comfortable, but also because I CAN’T IMAGINE BOXING THIS WHOLE THING UP.

As I struggled for hours to stuff cushions into washable covers. I said multiple times,

“I’m never washing this couch.”

Lies. All lies. Three days into the new couch, RB vomited all over it. Into the wash it went.

It came out perfect and putting one cushion back into its case is really not bad compared to upholstering twenty-seven different parts of the couch.

Come on over, have a seat, have a glass of wine, some chicken and mac ‘n cheese and some snuggles. I’m here.

On town election night I was at the Boston Ballet with a dear friend and the bathroom stall had this sign on the door. I don’t remember this from before, but maybe that’s because I’m always in a mad rush. It’s definitely worth holding onto your hopes and dreams. Overrides do happen.

What is to become of us? Deporting people without due process? Deporting US citizen children with cancer? The cruelty is incomprehensible.

I keep reorienting myself with my tiny microcosm of family life, which for the most part is a respite from our country’s chaos, until the pre-school art project homework arrives…

Is there no rest for the weary?

I can’t emphasize it enough, I do not like arts and crafts.

An email came from RB’s pre-k: Everyone needs to make a family shoebox diorama. A part of my soul began to wither.

What 5-year-old can accomplish this independently? RB is one of the oldest kids at her school, so tell me, what are the 2-3 year-olds doing?

Our hefty tuition bill does not shield us from arts and crafts outside of school hours.

I give Captain my take,

“Not it.”

When I melted into goo that first day I met Captain, I had no way of knowing that he’s an amazing artist with the willingness, patience and ability to craft a preschool, shoebox diorama well into the wee morning hours. But he is!

At 11pm I said goodnight to him, as he sat with the hot glue gun hovering over our stick figure family and a fluffy squirrel. He asked,

“How much of this should RB be doing?”

“She picked this scene right?”

“Yeah.”

She’s done enough.

SEND IT IN.

It’s in. We’re moving on. Especially because I know there’s a third grade art project headed our way, i.e. Captain’s way.

Just the fact that he owns a glue gun, owned one before I met him, is all the information we need to know about who’s in charge of the infamous third grade hat project.

Assuming I don’t move from this town in the next month.

Just kidding, kind of. People get it together, vote yes for the override. For all of the three people from my town reading this.

Please.