The refrigerator died.
It was only six years old, but for some reason would have cost as much to repair as it would cost just to get a new one. This means that we had to buy a brand new one, and let me say that I have never felt as old as I do now. We also bought a lawnmower (aided by my father, who knows how to repair and service them) and now my descent into homeowner hell is complete. Today we had a conversation about whether we should throw out one of the bookshelves because it's not "good quality." I know we're going to have to get another and I know I'm going to get all middle-agey about it matching the rest of the living room, which is done in light wood with sage green walls. I used to not care about things like that.

In my defense, I guess I am figuring that I will own the furniture I buy for the next fifty years, so I might as well make some effort to buy things that sort of kind of match, so that even as we replace things one by one no one will be able to tell. I mean, if the black entertainment center and the sandalwood finish entertainment center cost the same amount of money, and we have light wood floors...well...

SHUT UP! I know this is neurotic and suburban of me, and I've decided I don't care. You all can just stop judging me.

Also, I think the fact that I am living out of a cooler until the new fridge comes to be somewhat entertaining. And we still don't technically have a couch in the living room and are using dining room chairs. Maybe we're not that old and picky. Old people would have bought a couch this weekend, not spent Friday night at a going-away party drinking too much and running up and down Dive Bar shrieking after people they barely know "I FINALLY GOT CARDED! YES! I WAS CARDED! LA LA LA LA LA!" and carrying around a big old bag of candy and porn (a going away present for the former co-worker.)

I mean...not that I did any of the above. That would be un-ladylike.