Summer and I rearranged things in her room today in an attempt to get the most comfort from her air-conditioning vent. It went okay; we moved a desk and her bed. The bed was easy enough and the desk wasn’t difficult, but there was a little surprise when I started to lift my end of the desk: the top came right up. I quickly let it go back down and told Summer that the top apparently comes off. She didn’t understand at first and replied that, no, we didn’t need to take everything off the top to ease the desk in a hovering scoot around the corner.

I said again, “The top comes off.” And she told me again we didn’t need to take the stuff off the top. Finally, I lifted on my end and said, “Look, the top of the desk is coming up and leaving the bottom standing where it is right now.” She pulled a little on her end and exclaimed, “The top comes off!” For a moment we stood there holding a thick piece of wood with a lot of things on it, including a TV. Then we set it down and bowed to the inevitable: she lifted the TV off and put it on the floor and I took the papers, books, pencils, snacks, cable box and deposited them on the bed.

We then lifted up the five-foot top and realized we had no idea what we were going to do with it; it wasn’t a drill team maneuver but we did find a place for it to lean. We moved the base; we put the top back on . . . getting the TV and the cable box situated required some cord untangling and heartfelt thanks to the person who had left a long length of cable slack. I had to sit there cradling the cable box (still attached to the TV) while Summer detached the wall cable from it and got the kinks out and then reconnected it.

We turned it on for a test and there was Sponge Bob in his square pants. I sighed. The school counselors told her she was their best science student . . . and Sponge Bob? He should at least have trapezoid pants. Then, again, my brother-in-law, who went to school on a Mensa scholarship, can recite all the lines in every Three Stooges episode.

We finished up and for some reason the exercise left us both with sore buttockal muscles. And that would be too much information.

When I was ordering online, I passed over the Station glasses because I had a feeling they were thin and more likely to break; they are thin and they probably do need more careful handling than the tough Gilbratar glasses. However, standing in the store with the glass in my hand, it felt so nice – delicate and refined. What it didn’t say on the website is that they are Krosno from Poland. (Well, it may say Poland – I can’t remember.) I bought a few for myself and I am using one now. Actually, I not only like them – I really, really like them.

They are like the Jax glasses Crate & Barrel used to carry; Der Bingle has some of these and he really likes them. (Maybe even really, really likes them.)

Just thought I’d let you know.

My first cousin Lana is younger than I from late August of one year to early May of the next. So, now, we are the same age. I don’t know why, but this time of year, I always feel like “Ha ha HAHAHA d’ HAHA” and chortle some.

Happy Birthday, Lana Jane.

Oh, yeah, there’s this picture of us from some time back:

That’s me on the left and Lana on the right. (Susie is between us and Glenda is right behind her. We were the little ones.)

Now that I have my giggling out of the way . . . for a moment . . . HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LANA.