The Zadge intended to lie around all weekend, reading books on the couch with a nice cup of tea by her side or, more realistically, a nice strong cocktail. Picture Lady Mary in Downton Abbey, except without the castle, the grounds, the staff, the lovelorn suitor and the 18-inch waist.
But here’s the problem. The Zadge is biologically incapable of stillness. And quiet. And calm. The Zadge’s DNA code contains a special whirling dervish link. So the Zadge’s weekend did not entail a quiet, Lady Mary-like quality.
Instead, she hung a hammock, which required five – FIVE!!!- trips to her local hardware store. When she went back into said hardware store today to get potting soil, and informed the staff that the hammock was indeed in place, they gave her a rousing cheer.
Knowing that it was installed by herself, the Zadge was a wee-bit leery to actually test it out, what with the large rock edging lying immediately below. She gently lowered herself into the hammock and exhaled deeply, as she slowly swayed side to side under the warm, beautiful Colorado skies.
Until a frantic Bugs, who has clearly never seen a hammock, thrust both of his front paws onto the hammock, flipping the Zadge sideways onto the ground.
The Zadge also hit Home Depot and bought a blower. No, not some slutty girl. A leaf blower, the kind that the annoying neighbors of Meg at the Member’s Lounge use early in the morning. She needed to blow away all the thousands of tiny leaves some ginormous tree in the Zadge’s backyard drops everywhere. She also bought some big black ceramic pots on super sale.
Do you see any green grass in the Zadge’s backyard? No, you do not. Two summers in a row she has had sod put in. Two summers in a row it has turned as brown as the age spots on her face. She is giving it one more go this summer – sod to be laid next week. (If only the Zadge could say the same.)
The Zadge filled some pots with herbs – Ritts, Albert & the Tijuana Brass. Oh my god, she slays herself. Actually, just the usual suspects in one – Rosemary, Oregano, Parsley, Thyme and Mint – but her favorite herb of all time, Mr. Basil, gets his own pot:
She hit the so-called “Antique Row” in Denver looking for a new dresser and some fun stuff for the garden. She bemoaned the utter lack of any interesting antique or design shops in Denver, one of the only things she misses about D.C. She briefly contemplated opening a furniture/design shop with cool vintage French and Belgian pieces, imagining herself jetting off to Europe on buying trips, and returning to her shop filled with bouquets of white peonies and tulips amongst the cool accessories and furniture and sweet, calm napping dogs.
Then she stopped smoking crack and decided to assemble and install her new pot rack. The Zadge had called a handyman earlier in the week to do all the miscellaneous jobs around the house, like hanging the hammock and the pot rack, but the dude never called her back. Late Saturday evening, fueled by some Ketel One and some really bad 70s music on XM/Sirius’s “The Bridge,” the Zadge decided to tackle the project herself.
Mind you, the reviews for said pot rack on Amazon cautioned about the difficult assembly and nstall. Especially in a 116-year old house with plaster and lath walls.
Inspired by her mad carpentry skills and bad love songs, the Zadge then decided at roughly 11:30 p.m., to give Old Vicky a good spring cleaning. She ruthlessly combed through the upstairs storage loft, placing half of what was in there next to the dumpster in the alley, including a dead power drill, a lamp, an air purifier, fabric remnants, boxes of crap, and more. Becoming more and more “Sleeping with the Enemy” with each sip, she scrubbed cabinets and tossed anything extraneous. She organized extension cords. She ran three loads of laundry.
And then she started in with the redecorating. She moved books here and there. Swapped photos and paintings and knick knacks. She cleared off her fireplace mantel and then replaced it with three small white vases of charming green Irish Moss. Pulled bowls and tea kettles out of there and put them over there.
She paused briefly to watch an old video of her true love Keef Richards strum the guitar. Then she realized it was 1:30 in the morning and she was exhausted.
She slept. Then she picked up Lizzie and took her and her little 7-year old friend JuJu to see the “Chimpanzee” movie. The movie made the Zadge want to adopt a baby chimp until she remembered that horrible incident where that pet chimp ripped off a neighbor’s face and hands. Then she decided that Harry wasn’t so bad after all.
And she watched “The Bridesmaids” again and decided, again, that Melissa McCarthy is the funniest woman on the planet.
Lady Mary the Zadge did actually manage to read a book this weekend as well:
“The Sense of an Ending” won last year’s Man Booker Prize (the best English book of the year). It’s more of a novella and is very well written and has a totally puzzling ending that the Zadge is still trying to wrap her head around. She would love to talk to anyone else who has read it. It is great book club material and the Zadge would recommend it to her book club but her book club had done away with the fiction (ha ha ha) of reading books and just gets together to eat and drink now.
Oh, and if the Zadge ever does date again, she thinks she just may channel some Bread and say to him, “I want to make it with you.”