About three or four years ago, we got a free couch from a co-worker's dad.  Our previous hand-me-down had become lopsided from a relentlessly bouncy child -- not to mention an overweight Man -- so the timing of the availability of said new[er] couch couldn't have been more serendipitous.  Actually getting the thing into our house was a journey of Odyssean proportions that involved borrowing a pickup truck, hundreds of miles of driving, threats of stormy weather and the complete removal of the front windows from our living room.

But, oh, such a couch!  Soft and cushiony, with a fold-down center console that contained not only cup holders, but a speaker phone as well.  Each end reclined AND had built-in massaging vibrations.  So what if the brownish-gray, faux leather upholstery was a bit worn?  This was the King of Couches!  As it turns out, we never did take advantage of the phone or massagers.  The couch was too far away from a phone jack, and the vibrations were more annoying than pleasurable or relaxing.  It sure was nice, though, to put our feet up on a lazy Friday night for a movie or the Sci-Fi Channel lineup, laying back comfortably as the Wife knitted and I drank a beer.

(If you are reading this and are a parent or a pet owner, by now you've already heard the other shoe drop.)

Unfortunately, within about a year the couch had begun to show significant signs of wear, such as screws occasionally, inexplicably falling out of the undersides of the foot rests.  By this evening, it was in an extremely sorry state.  Large areas of the upholstery were worn down to the underweave, many of the seams torn and resewn with my heavy-handed stitches.  Because of its construction, things that had fallen down under the seating required a Cirque du Soleil-level contortionist's skills to retrieve -- or just declaring them lost.  Stains from countless spills, colored markers and crayons made the original color impossible to recall.  And just this morning a 3-inch rip appeared out of nowhere near the center of the seating area.

The last straw to which this story's title alludes was at about 8:30 tonight, when the Younger Son spilled (or purposefully poured?) an entire bottle of Power Ade (never mind where he got it) onto -- and into -- one end of the couch.  We spent about 5 minutes fooling ourselves into thinking we could salvage this sinking ship, but finally resigned ourselves to a Craig's List search after I lifted it up and disgusting blue electrolytes poured down and out of the other end.  Considering (a) how difficult life has become recently and (b) the fact that the couch had always taken up a huge amount of floor space, I decided that tomorrow's big project while watching the inauguration will be to dismantle the monstrosity and get it the hell out of our lives.  I will likely take pictures.

Problem.  Solution.  That is all.

Never let a 9-year old with ADHD apply sunscreen to your back.

 

It's everywhere:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me" or some such.
2. I will respond by asking you 5 questions that may stray into realms you wish to remain private.
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions.  Please.
4. You will include this and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them 5 questions.

As with the last time, I still don't have a lot of readers, so can't say whether too many people will respond.  But I will ask questions of the first 5 people who reply.  

the_ogre asked me these questions, and here are my answers to same:

1) You have two kids currently. Are you and misanthrope_momlikely to ever have more?

You don't regularly read my posts, so have likely not seen my previous entry regarding my decision to get a vasectomy.  I'd very much like the kids to have moved out by the time I'm 60, so yeah ... we're done. (Plus, you forgot the Daughter, who doesn't live with us.)

2) You are a second-gen (at least) fan. What is your first memory of an SF Con?

Well, that would probably be a WesterCon or WorldCon that took place in LA when I was a very young, and the memory wasn't tied so much to the con itself as to eating breakfast at Sambo's with my dad and sister.  I found a cockroach in my pancakes, and we got the meal for free.  Really, the clearer memories of cons were from DunDraCon, and those involve Jeff Pimper letting me help with the film projector.  "Phantasm" and Mike Jittlov left a clear impression.

3) Hands down - who is your favorite SF author?

Herein lies my embarassing confession: I don't actually read a lot of sci-fi (or even fantasy).  Most of my reading is in the form of blogs, biographies and graphic novels.  Just based on having read multiples from a single author, though, I'd have to say Neil Gaiman.

4) Are you and your wife ever likely to move back to the Bay Area core, do you think?

As often as she's spoken about missing Santa Cruz and wishing we could move there, the Wife just told me yesterday that if we could move anywhere in the Bay Area, it would be Mountain View.  Essentially halfway between her family and mine, it's also a nice community with everything one would need.

5) Do you think you'd ever leave the Bay Area permanently?

Not likely, unless overnight I was somehow able to make a living as a professional film actor without any effort.  I can't imagine that would enable to me to stay out of LA unless I was superfamous.  Although New Zealand does sound nice.

Having finished said Fat Tire, I am realizing just how long it has been since I last ate anything.  So I guess it's time to write about my fabulous day.

Getting the Elder Son out of the house was hilarious, seeing as it took him longer than 30 minutes to get dressed.  That's one of the wonderful things about ADHD -- it makes it hard for him to focus on anything before his meds kick in (let's not talk about how much it kills me to have to medicate my kid so heavily every day just so he can function properly).

Once I got home from dropping him off at school, I spent some time checking my gmail account, which I hadn't looked at since before Memorial Day Weekend.  Oh, the wonders that awaited me!  Fortunately, there weren't any new job offers or cash opportunities with time limits, but I figure that since I shave my head I would have been safe had there been anything that would have otherwise caused me to pull out my hair (it's not for nothing that I got a "CAUTION: Shakes Fist at Sky" ribbon at the con; really, I do spin, just on the inside).

After the Wife and Younger Son woke up, he and I played for a while and I did some more email and job searching.  The Wife and I had breakfast while watching last week's Dr. Who (hooray, TIVO!), and then it was time to put the Younger Son down for his nap.  After reading him a couple stories, I left him with his mother in the bedroom, and took off to do some errands.

My errands consisted of going to my ex-boss' house to pick up some paperwork related to the arbitration for which I get to fly to Palm Desert next week.  Nobody was at the house, so I left a note for her brother-in-law ("He'll be at the house all day.") to call me when he got in.  Then I drove to our county EDD to get some job search help from their veteran's benefits coordinator.  That took a couple hours, and then I got a call from the brother-in-law saying he was back.  I picked up the paperwork, then found out that the same county building also housed the office where one applies for food stamps (yeah, the fact that we're at the point of needing to even consider it literally makes me nauseous).  Unfortunately I got there too late for the 90-minute application process, so will have to go back another day.

As it turns out, the Younger Son had not actually slept when the Wife put him down for the nap earlier in the day (he just spread toothpaste all over the bathroom and bedroom while she slept), so when I got home late in the afternoon, she had finally gotten him down and was again asleep herself.  While I waited for them to wake up, I cleaned our gutter (which gathers dirt and trash, and grows algae thanks to a weird runoff spout right next to our house).  While I was doing this, the neighbor's kids informed me that they will be moving out this coming Saturday.  Yes, the hillbillies are finally leaving!  Let's hope they take the rusty cars and dog poop with them.

Anyway, that's about it.  I feel like crap, and have decided to have a couple beers tonight instead of my usual method of stress-release, going to the gym.  Fat Tire down, Guinness to go.

The Daughter turns 17 today.  Oy.