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Baby, look inside your mirror

Taking a break from the com­puter can be pretty awe­some, I should do it more often. The man­age­ment said they were send­ing work­ers in to the apart­ments so I went a lit­tle nuts with tidy­ing up the place and did some major shift­ing of objects and con­sol­i­da­tion of space and what­not. Plus with the vac­u­um­ing and the scrub­bing of the floors and once I start I can’t stop, but I knew if I turned on the com­puter, I would drop every­thing and go back to being lazy. I could not risk that.
I was hop­ing the work­ers would come in and be all “Hey, here’s a new air con­di­tioner!” but unfor­tu­nately they needed access to the crawl space under our apart­ment, which was a bit of a shock, because we had to do that a few months ago and they gave us advance word then. See, the trap door is in the floor of our bed­room walk-​in closet, and the trap door hap­pens to be cov­ered by my old free­stand­ing wardrobe. It can only be removed if you take the door off the closet first. Oh yeah, and you have to take every­thing out of it and off from the top of it. And then it weighs a zil­lion pounds (shoutout to my mens at Gothic Cabinet Craft) and it’s wedged in there just so to begin with, and you can’t get it out of there with­out one per­son (my hus­band) hav­ing to con­tor­tion­ate his way under some clothes to go past it and behind it and oh, it’s just a mess. So we had to do that again, and then put it back. And we didn’t get a new air con­di­tioner, what up with that? But at least the house is neater than it was at the begin­ning of the week.
This flurry of activ­ity was capped off by a trip to Oakland to see our Sacramento Kings (not) defeat the Golden State Warriors. Somehow we ended up in a sec­tion loaded of Kings fans and a few irate Warriors fans. The lit­tle girl in front of us, she was prob­a­bly 12, was con­tin­u­ally screech­ing I love you Miiike! I love you Braaad! I love you Pessshhhaaa! very, very loudly. Sure enough, when she left to go get nachos, that’s when the game went all to hell, so I guess there must be some­thing to it. Hmm. I might have to fight her for Brad though.
One per­son I won’t have to fight pretty much any­body for is my man Vlade. My sou­venir of the expe­ri­ence is a bunch of tiny, blurry Vlades in my dig­i­tal cam­era.
He’s the man who makes it all hap­pen. There are lots more pic­tures of him (and even of other Kings, believe it or not), but I think those up there are enough, really.
These pic­tures are pretty impres­sive con­sid­er­ing we were way up in the very tip top fur­thest back­est row of the arena. Oh the won­ders of mod­ern tech­nol­ogy. It was the first time I could get the dig­i­tal zoom to actu­ally work, it’s pretty hot.
Christopher trucked out with some Kings thun­der­sticks that had been left behind. They weren’t as loud as he had hoped they would be, so he might have been a lit­tle dis­ap­pointed. Of course, if the Kings had f-​ing won it might not have even mattered.

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