Out with the Old, In with the Old

I've been busy cleaning house for the last few days. I was finally able to get the huge green stacking unit in my bedroom cleared off and set out on the curb where it was quickly claimed, and most of the clutter cleared away from Logan's closet, which he hasn't been able to use in oh, at least two years. I sort of went on strike one day when he pissed me off. I quit hanging up his clothes and quit folding his clothes, and just tossed all of them, shirts, pants, socks, drawers -- everything -- on top of his dresser. Then I got the stacker and used it in lieu of a desk/vanity. I used to hang all his clothes in a very orderly (some would say anal) manner: shirts arranged by color and by sleeve length, pants by degree of <ahem> casualness. That is to say, dress pants nearer to the wall and torn, stained, welder-burner, blacksmith-coal smelling, raggedy-assed jeans nearer to the door of the closet, since that's what he wears most of the time. But when I went on strike, he was left to fend for himself, and he didn't seem to mind (at least not enough to motivate his dead ass to do his own laundry) having his clothes piled on top of the dresser.

Well, I guess I've been feeling a bit nostalgic or something because between the closet being unusable and the bed causing his back so much pain that he sleeps on the futon in the front room, I've sort of missed having Logan sleeping in the bedroom with me. So I figured he'd feel more welcome if he could use his closet.

I started my housecleaning venture almost a week ago. Logan went out of town last Thursday to go up to Olney for the opening of dove hunting season. He managed to kill about 15 tiny, defenseless creatures that never did a thing to him. He smiles about it, showing his huge canines. He's had the birdies on ice since last weekend, and only today says they have aged enough to cook. He'll clean them over on the side of the house behind the fence so as to not alarm the neighbors, but to enlist the aid of all the cats in cleaning up the remains. I can hear the growls now. But I digress. So while Logan was out of the house, I was able to start culling through his wardrobe, getting rid of the oldest, ugliest, torn-up clothes, clothes that no longer fit even though he won't admit it, and things he just never wears. My goal was to have his closet ready for him to use by his birthday, which was yesterday. It wasn't quite ready, but I can probably finish clearing the area by this weekend.

Last night, since it was Logan's 53rd birthday, we went to the Lone Star Oyster Bar where Logan had a dozen oysters (ugh!) since they're $5 a dozen on Tuesdays (a happy coincidence for him) and a couple of Rahr Reds (a local brew made right here in Fort Worth: http://www.rahrbrewing.com/rahrred.html ). I had tilapia with lots of nice veggies and a HUGE frozen margarita. We then went to the Shamrock, where Matt bought Logan a shot (a big shot, measuring and pouring at the same time à la Justin Wilson) of Laphroaig, a single malt Scotch whisky, which smells like a peat fire. On the scotch's website, they have some award as the best single malt whisky in the world. Check it out: http://www.laphroaig.com/whiskies/cask_strength/index.asp?expanded=cask_strength

After the whisky, Logan had a Bellhaven or two, his favorite beer next to Guiness, or sometimes instead of Guiness, it's such a close race. I was boring and had a double screwdriver. When we were done drinking, we stopped at Braum's for milk, juice, and brownies. I didn't make Logan a cake, and we forgot to pick one up at Target when we were there before dinner getting 5,897,264 coat hangers. (I told Logan I had to have more coat hangers in order to finish hanging up all his clothes, so he bought three metric buttloads of them, along with sewing needles, pins, and wart remover. Interesting combination. I bought Cokes, tampons, and knitting needles. Another interesting combination as well. But not near as interesting as the couple Herbie saw years ago buying condoms and Vaseline. She wanted to tell them K-Y wouldn't have the same destructive effect as does Vaseline, but figured they would take offense.)

Arriving home around 10 p.m., we found Brighid lounging on the futon, watching anime and Weyland playing Age of Empires on the computer. The dog had not been fed, no one had had his bath, and homework was not completed. I made Weyland stay up til midnight to finish some pages in math, but Brighid claimed she didn't have homework. The report cards next week will attest to the truth or falsehood of that.

In the meanwhile, I've been feeling vaguely stressed and apprehensive, though I can't imagine why. I turn 41 on Saturday, and have been feeling so thankful not to have been living in New Orleans that I don't know why I have an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it's just allergies. Lord knows the dust I've been stirring has had an effect on my immune system. I've been sneezing my head off and coughing up huge gray loogies which look something like oysters. Which is why I don't eat them. Oysters or loogies.