Wednesday afternoon I succumbed to my soul’s longings and visited Anthropologie’s website while doing research for a ‘project’ and saw an adorable miniature bike on sale for $49.95.
A couple of summers ago, Danny went to Indonesia and brought home a miniature bicycle.
THE BIKE ON ANTHROPOLOGIE’S WEBSITE IS THE EXACT SAME ONE DANNY GOT IN INDONESIA.
If you’ve been to our apartment, you have seen the miniature bike, I can almost guarantee it because everyone notices it and some people have even been known to try to steal it. Whether or not you’ve seen it in person or you’ve tried to steal it or you just believe me, IT IS THE SAME ONE as Anthropologie’s.
I’m still trying to figure out what this means. This could mean that Danny actually bought the miniature bike at Anthropologie. Which is an exciting prospect because a) that means he has more money than I thought and b) he shops at Anthropologie?! Or, it could mean that Anthropologie sources their miniature bicycles from Surabaya, Indonesia, which is where Danny (hypothetically) got his. Which is kind of crazy in and of itself.
The roof mess all day Wednesday, Danny deciding to walk across Colorado, the reoccurring flax milk issue, and now this. Oh and our sink decided to make a scene on Wednesday in the middle of dinner preparations. Talk about poor timing.
(I am sharing this because Danny says I embarrassed him by talking about him walking across Colorado, and I am now obligated to share the following story.)
It (the sink) started spitting up apple pieces and avocado pits (didn’t know we put those down the disposal) and all sorts of gross things. So I did what any wise apartment dweller does: call the office. I guess the desperation I was feeling was evident in my voice so they office referred me to the emergency maintenance line. I called, and Bill from maintenance assured me he’d be up in ten minutes, but after half an hour had passed, and we just kept getting hungrier and hungrier, I called the office again. Or so I thought. Bill picked up the phone. I had obviously redialed the emergency maintenance line and not the office. “Just wanted to make sure everything is okay…” I said with panic and incredible embarrassment. Bill assured me he was on his way and had just gotten hung up on a job at another unit. I was so embarrassed about bothering Bill about the sink again that I made a plan. I would carry on with dinner, and as soon as there was a knock at the door, I’d run to the bedroom and hide. Danny would greet Bill, escort him to the sink, describe the problem, Bill would fix the problem, leave, and as soon as the door would shut behind him, I’d get back to cooking.
And that’s exactly how it went.
Bill pressed the reset button on the disposal and all of a sudden, all was right with the world again. Dinner was fine in my two-minute absence, and we carried on.
But then last night we watched “Blackfish.”
And I realized that everything was NOT right with the world. With SeaWorld still open and Tilikum (and company) still in captivity, how could I ever be happy again? One thing’s for sure, if you haven’t seen “Blackfish,” you should.
And do not take your sink for granted.