Not dead. Yet.

I think I may have coughed up an important internal part yesterday in the front yard, any volunteers to come look for it? I'm not sure what part it was, but I think you'll recognize it if you find it. K promises me I'm not dead and in h-e-double hockey sticks because there wouldn't be flannel sheets and cuddling there, even if there is likely to be gut-wrenching coughing.

Everyone stares at me if I cough when I leave the house. Evidently, they all think I'm contagious. I actually had one woman this week get right on my case from the minute she walked into work. "Whatever you have isn't dangerous for pregnant ladies, is it?" How the heck am I supposed to know? I don't even know what it is, except that it must not be too contagious since I've had it for weeks and nobody else I know has it. "Well, you make sure to stay away from M because I don't want you to get her sick, we need her around here." Gee, thanks for the compassion and the ability to make me feel valued all at the same time! A+ for you!

Yesterday evening was another adventure in being a spectacle. K and I have to replace the door between the house and the mudroom, and two weeks after the promised delivery date, it finally arrived at Home Dump, so we picked it up. Despite being barely able to sit upright, I had to go because K was not willing to take any chances with picking out stain or door knobs without my okay. We took the pickup and knew the dimensions of the door, so it didn't seem like this was going to be a challenge. But, they had it packed in a large wooden structure and it wasn't clear that the glass would make it home all in one piece if we took it out. Since it was on a pallet jack, we assumed they would probably just send one of the forklift guys out to hoist it into the truck for us. Nope. They sent us the "lot attendant" (read: man who collects carts from the parking lot) who was approximately 9000 years old and didn't sound any more likely to make it across the parking lot than I was.

The three of us wrestled the door and wooden frame into the truck. Standing straight up. So, the 8' door is sitting in the bed of the pickup, for a total profile of maybe 11 or 12'. We had to go on another errand before we went home, and the man at that store immediately laughed when we walked in, and said "I followed that door on X street, were you guys just over there?", and of course, we were. When we went through intersections, the drivers of the waiting cars turned their heads and followed us all the way across. At least one pedestrian appeared frightened for his life as we went around the corner he was standing on.

I expect we'll hear about other people who saw us and how entirely insane they think we are. We hear that about one thing or another that we've done at least twice a year since we've been here. The joys of small town living.