I finally got my stove! Hooray! Except . . . there is stink from that shiny oil they spray in the oven that, no matter how long I've left the oven on [and escaped from the house, because CHEMICAL SMELL = TOXIC no matter what] I still feel like it's there. Thus far I have made stromboli for the husband and a roast with potatoes, also for the husband. I figure if he doesn't keel over and die from the toxins, I should be able to eat something out of the oven sometime soon. Like maybe 2010.
I was at the post office this morning getting stamps and having a delightful conversation with the old guys on either side of me about how long of a line there was with only TWO [yes, 2!] postal employees during what is arguably their busiest season, and really, what is the USPS thinking? You know why no one uses the regular mail? Because you suck.
After FINALLY getting my stamps [generic cookie stamps, no religious ones, thanks], I went to Target and, after picking up the dishwasher detergent, realized I had to leave but soon because everything I kept trying to put in my cart was something for me and now is really not the time to expand my Scrubs DVD collection [but only $16.99, and shut up, that show is fucking HILARIOUS], but is instead the time to try and figure out what the fuck to get my family members for this holiday we don't but do celebrate. I called my sister and asked her what to get my mother [I already did a magazine subscription and a CD] and she suggested . . . nylon knee socks. Yeah. Thanks for that.
Off to do the dishes, now that I can.