I mentioned that we moved, but I don’t think I was very specific. We moved from Massachusetts to New Hampshire. People in Massachusetts like to spread rumors about how awful everything in New Hampshire is, but I think that’s just because if everyone knew how cool it was up here there would be no one left in Massachusetts.
The candy shop at the mall sells little bottle-shaped chocolates that are filled with whiskey.
The first thing I saw when we walked into our new local Wal-Mart to get a rod-thing for the toilet-paper-holder-thing because the previous tenants took that with them and seriously who the hell takes that was a rack of what I’m pretty sure were alcoholic Capri Suns. Like, mixed drinks in a bag inviting you to stab a straw into them and drink them.
One of the times I came up here to paint, I saw a school bus pulling out of the state liquor store.
Maybe this “booze is everywhere” thing isn’t quite as novel and exciting to people who aren’t from Massachusetts, but I’m used to having to go to a liquor store to get anything remotely booze-like. A few grocery stores have liquor sections, but that’s about it. This is so…freeing.
So anyway, when we were on that Wal-Mart trip trying to find the thing that makes our toilet paper holder actually hold toilet paper, we discovered a giant wine section. It was confusing. I mean, we must have looked like tourists, except we were at Wal-Mart and I’m pretty sure tourists don’t go to Wal-Mart, but we were just sorta standing there staring like they can do that here? So after a few minutes, we decided to get a cheap bottle of wine (Barefoot Zinfandel, yum) to break in the new wine glasses.
Mike’s (former) roommate got him wine glasses as a graduation present because he had seen, too many times, the results of our guests bringing a bottle of wine with them and us being like oh, we don’t have wine glasses, do you want a small or large glass? They are really nice glasses. They do the whole sing-when-you-rub-your-finger-on-the-edge thing and everything. Mike left the wine glasses in their packaging to decrease the chances of us breaking them during the move, and when I organized our kitchen, I left them in the smaller packaging to decrease the chances that we broke one of them when we were going for a glass for juice.
When we got home, Mike got one of the boxes-of-two-wine-glasses out and washed them. He dried them. We sat down for dinner and ate our meals and each had a glass of wine. The whole time, I’m sitting there like don’t break it Rachael this is a nice thing DON’T FUCKING BREAK IT. We even had a brief conversation in which we agreed that the glasses were a nice gift and possibly even too nice for us because we’re fucking clumsy. Anyway. We made it through the meal. We both finished our wine. I did the dishes. I left the wine glasses off to the side so I wouldn’t break them while washing something else. Finally, it was time to wash the wine glasses.
Oh god, I was terrified. They were so thin and delicate-feeling. I imagine it’s similar to how it must feel to carry a really old person with brittle bones, except I had to shove a brand-new sponge inside them (and brand-new sponges are way firmer than old, worn out sponges) and not break them.
I didn’t break them.
I was so proud of myself every single moment that I was touching one of the glasses and it didn’t break. All, yes, you have NOT fucked this up yet! Keep it up! You have GOT this! So when I got through washing them successfully and put them on the little glass-holder things on the drainer, I was cheering myself. I cheered for myself as I walked back to our room and sat down on my computer and did the stuff I needed to do for my online summer class.
A few hours later, I hear footsteps upstairs. The guy upstairs isn’t loud and doesn’t stomp around like an elephant like the people upstairs from Mike’s old place. It’s pretty nice. I didn’t think much of his walking around or anything, because it didn’t seem like something that would keep me up or disturb my lack of migraine.
I didn’t think anything of it until I heard a tinkling crash from the kitchen.
What the fuck.
The drying rack apparently can’t hold top-heavy glasses if there’s any movement anywhere. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.
Until then, this is why we can’t have nice things.
You’ve seen “How to Train Your Dragon,” right? If not, you should. It’s excellent. But I’m really sad that I can’t find a clip of Hiccup saying, “But you just gestured to all of me!” Because we’d use that all the time. “DAMMIT, THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.” “But you just gestured to all of me!” And that goes both ways. Mike and I are why we can’t have nice things.
Next time, I’m getting the Capri Sun things.