Just doing our part!

A while back, I left my job.  In fact, the anniversary for leaving of said job passed and I kind of forgot about it (on account of how much more I love my new job [or jobs]).  Maybe remarking on it now may seem a little bit like bragging or beating a dead horse, but this is my blog, I trained it, I'm gonna eat it.

As you may know, the wife and I celebrated my leaving of what I shall refer to as "the job that taught me that my soul DOES in fact have a price" by going on a vacation to the other side of the continent, upgrading all the windows in the house, and renovating the basement.  In other words, we decided that the best thing to do to start off the new chapter of my life in which I wasn't making any money to spending all our money. 

Well.

The world we live in today is so different than the one that we were in back in the hayday of 2008. 

First, I have a job.  In fact, I have a great job!  I really like my job!  When people ask me if I like my job, I say "yes, I do!"  The exclamation marks are there to illustrate the change in my attitude from when people used to ask me that question (pre-2009).  The having of a job and steady, nay, frequent paycheques (not more frequent than before, just, you know, they happen twice a month and that's more often than some other things) is a nice thing, and I would like to continue that process for the foreseeable future.

Then there's the whole economy in the drain and Bush isn't a President, but Harper still is.  We also have Glee now, which makes it okay for straight males in the 21st century to enjoy musicals without being Indian. 

I'm not saying that we haven't had upheaval.  We have.  Something happened which chilled us to the bone and made us ask questions like "Now what do we do?"

Our TV died.

This TV is over a decade old by now.  It has lived a good life.  It has seen many, many programs and movies and test patterns.  It was a great and powerful TV and it has been lovely to us and we will miss it but it has to go.

We bought a new TV.  A nice, big , 42" flatscreen HDTV.  Oh, precious, precious HD.  It looks so nice.  It was so large, we could barely fit it into the E-Cho.  That's the kind of TV that you want: so big that you consider buying a bigger car just so you can get that TV home. 

With all that lovely new television real estate to view, we were presented with another issue:  our seating arrangement.  Since we moved into the basement (where the TV goes, so shall we) we have been limited to sitting in separate chairs.  Quite frankly, I missed my wife.  Snuggles are a big part of the experience, and we both missed having them.

We bought a new futon.  We went out for a couch, but after measuring the doors I calculated that the only way to get a couch in the basement would be sawing.  The only sectional that I was really interested in was that one that's built for a home theatre - the one with cupholders and a bar fridge in it - man I want that... but it costs about seventeen million dollars.  Or maybe it was two thousand.  In any case, it was more than we had in the budget for seating.  But a nice new futon fit perfectly.  And it came in a box that fit through all our doors.  And now we have ample seating for our ample rear ends.

With all this time spent in our basement in front of our really awesome TV and lounging about on our oh-so-comfortable futon, we began to wonder what people would think of us.  Oh, I don't mean us becoming recluses.  I mean how could we put a nice new TV and futon into a house that looks...well, come on, looks like that.  And the answer was we couldn't.

We bought new siding.

Well, we haven't actually bought it yet.  But it's in the backyard.  And the guy who's going to put it on the house will be here tomorrow.  Hopefully.  And then the house is going to look sharp.

I'm going to take a picture of it when it's done.  I will then put that picture up on our TV so we can enjoy all the nice things we have.

And with that, we have plugged enough of our money back into the economy.  Take that, economy. 

Take that, indeed.

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