Impertinent Fellow...

Um, so this kind of looks like our purple couch that's for sale.  Except we don't have fringe on the bottom, thank goodness.  Our new place in Oregon is, like, 1/3 the size of the dream-house-I-only-had-for-eight-months.  So we had to let a lot of stuff go.  Including my beloved purple couch.  I slept on that thing during four pregnancies, you guys.  I had to sleep almost upright during each one because of the horrible acid reflux I had, and that couch provided me with the perfect little corner to wedge myself up in.  I slept on it when Ben snored so loudly that I couldn't sleep (before I discovered Mack's earplugs - a lifesaver).  Ben parked his badonkadonk on there to watch his awful zombie apocalypse shows and other horrific movies that I hid in the bedroom to avoid.  My kids jumped on it.  We lost several toys and cell phones in its bowels.  I'll miss it.

So anyways, our purple fabled one is sitting in my old garage, waiting for someone to buy it for $20. I have had a few inquiries, but nobody's been serious about buying it.

Until today.

I get a text:  Hey, I'm interested in your purple sofa.  Is it still available?

Me:  Yes!  If you want to look at it, I can meet you.

What I was starting to think was a dude (you can just tell):  Can you drop the price to $10?

Me: [thinking "Eh, what the hell"]:  Sure.

Dude who should be paying $20 for my beloved purple couch:  Awesome.  If it's that price, I don't need to see it.  When can you bring it by?

Me:

I was like, "Jigga WHAT?  Who is this guy?  Who does he think he is?  He's only paying ten bucks for the purple fabled one?  And he wants me to deliver it to him?"

And then I get a call from this guy.  I was really interested in hearing him talk.  Thinking he  might be stoned or something.

Me:  [Answering sweetly] Hello?

A 12-year-old voice:  Hey, I'm the guy that's been texting you about your sofa.

Me: [chuckling]  Ohhhhhh!  Hiiiii!

12-year-old that looks at Craig's List for SOFAS:  So is there any way you can deliver that sofa to my house?

Me:  Well, I was just about to text you that I don't have a truck or a trailer or anything.  You'll have to have someone come pick it up.  [Because you're only 12 and can't drive yet.]

Silly boy who is a little bit unschooled in the ways of Craig's List - for good reason - because he's TWELVE:  Ohhhh.  Okay, well, I'll talk to my parents about it tonight and see what we can figure out.

Me:  Okay, you do that.  Buh-bye.  [And have a nice day in 7th grade tomorrow.  Hope being a Sevie is working out for you.]

That phone call seriously made my day.  This kid reminds me of my Dylan - an evil genius.  I haven't yet told you the tale of Dylan figuring out how to buy $50 of video games the other day.  I still can't figure out how he did it.  But, somehow, he guessed Ben's apple ID password and Ben's credit card got charged.  Ben's password is soooo complicated - I often have to ask him what it is.  And I don't have his credit card info at all!

Ben called me and was like, "WHAT DID YOU BUY?"  And I was like, "Huh?"  We soon figured it out, and luckily, Ben was able to have the charge (and the games) removed, and Dylan is hereby grounded from the iPad FOREVER.  This isn't the first iPad altercation we've had with him.  He's seriously like a crack addict about that thing.  Tomorrow I'll tell you the tale of the day Dylan ran away from home - for realsies - because I took away iPad privileges.  And this only happened a month ago.  After my mastectomy.  Like a champ.  That's the perfect thing to do when your dad is gone and your mom is recovering from major surgery.  Good times.  Really good times.

Kids these days.  Sheesh.