How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

We also played a game called TV Tag. We liked our games to have oxymoronic titles.

The one good thing about a long, soul-crushing winter is that the first nice days in spring are like an event.  Everyone is outside.  It's like an impromptu city-wide picnic breaks out as soon as the temperature tops 60 degrees.

There were kids out in the park tonight flying kites.  (It was a good thing that the kids were otherwise occupied because the swings were being used by cigarette-smoking college students.)  I was thinking as I walked by that if kids these days spend less time outside than we did, it's probably not that we were any less lazy.  Our technology was just worse.  We had an Atari growing up (actually a Sears Entertainment System, Atari Compatible) and after about ten minutes of trying to make that unresponsive controller make the little stick man grab the rope and swing over a pond, you'd develop such a cramp in your hand that you had no choice but to quit and find something else to do.

I do remember though spending all day every day outside anytime it was nice enough out.  We had two other kids in our neighborhood and the five of us would spend our summers playing baseball or freeze tag or whatever else anybody yelled out with enough conviction to make everyone else follow along. 

One game in particular that we liked was called Moving Statues.  Did you play this?  You had one person who was the shopkeeper, one customer, and everyone else as statues.  The customer went around the side of the house and then the shopkeeper would swing the statue people around and then let go, hurling them through the air.  You could choose slow or fast for the swinging around part, except we called this salt or pepper.  I don't know why.  Nobody ever picked salt though anyway.  Not only was it wimpy, but the very point of this game was to be thrown with as much velocity as possible and still land without sustaining a major injury. 

Much like a less complex game we'd play, which involved running down the hill, launching ourselves off a big rock, and landing in the neighbors' yard.  I don't remember any of us ever getting hurt doing that either.  For we were young!  And limber!  And not yet capable of sustaining sleeping-related injuries!  (I'm not sure my mom knew about that game.  Happy Mother's Day!  We all survived the front yard pretty much unscathed, despite our best attempts to maim ourselves!)

So anyway, you'd get spun around and you had to stay however you landed.  Then, based on your pose, you'd decide what sort of moving statue you would be.  The customer would come in, the shopkeeper would take him or her around the shop, and when tapped by the shopkeeper, the statues would come to life.  It seems like we would be things like dancers or boxers or whatever it is that elementary school kids would think would be a cool moving statue to have around your house.  I don't really remember.  (Again: not the important part of the game.)  The customer would pick one and then the game would start over.  Repeat until bored or called in for dinner.

Ah, nostalgia.  Now somebody bring me a Flintstones push pop and my firefly-catching jar.  And then make me some dinner and call me in for it.  I promise to hose off my feet before coming in.  If you play your cards right, I might even bring you a big bouquet of those little yellow flowers that are growing all over the yard.  Just don't make me go to bed while it's still light out.  Pleeeeeeeease?

Above zero and not snowing, captured on film

Melissa asked me to take some pictures of the snow.  For the record, Alan opposed this idea on the grounds that taking pictures of the snow would only embolden it.  Ever the obedient girlfriend I...Ha!  I can't even finish that sentence.

On to photos.  Remember this bench?

Now you can snowshoe past it.

Don't have your snowshoes?  Here's a nice bench on the Capitol Square.  Care to sit and have a chat?

Or we could go on in to the Capitol.

Let's take the stairs.  Careful now.

Watch out for icicles.

Oh, and if you absolutely must get a new haircut in the dead of winter, at least ask your stylist to leave enough length to cover your neck.

And maybe give the red line from your glasses a few minutes to go away before photographing yourself for the internet.  Amateur.

And now I'm a little concerned about the Google hits I'm going to get for Amateur photographing yourself for the internet.  Welcome, gentlemen.  This is not what you were looking for.

It's Official

I heard on the radio this morning that we have officially broken the record for most snow accumulation in a single winter.  76.1 inches and counting.  God only knows how much we'll have by the time it stops.  We have a couple of months left and so far, no sign of a slowdown.

At least I feel somewhat vindicated in all of my complaining.  I am not just whining about winter.  I am whining about the MOTHER OF ALL WINTERS.  So there.

The eighty pounds of cat litter in the back of my car does seem to be helping with the fishtailing problems I was having.  Seeing as how I have no cat, I'll be able to offer Madison-area residents an excellent deal on litter come spring.  Let's say...May?  Hopefully?

*Don't forget, you have until the end of the day Friday to enter the CONTEST in the post below this one.  Keep those memoirs coming!

In layman's terms: "a crapload"

The official count is 13.3 inches of snow from Tuesday afternoon through Wednesday evening.  That's the second most that the city has recorded, after 17 inches in 1990. 

I still came in to work yesterday, as I am a dedicated employee.  Plus, as a temp, no work equals no pay.  There is no way in hell I would have left the house if it had meant driving.  I do not understand why so many people thought it was a good idea.  I got to work and home courtesy of Madison Metro Transit and two bus drivers who were very nice, despite the stressful conditions.  (Take that, mean bus driver!  It was not even snowing AT ALL when you were mean to me!) 

Even the bus turned out to be a dicey proposition by 3:00 yesterday afternoon when I left work.  Buses were stuck all over the city.  My bus driver was the smart one, at times dropping people off a block or more from their stop in order to find a good place where he wouldn't get stuck.  I got dropped off a few blocks from my stop and then waded home through, at times, thigh-deep snow.  Which, in case you weren't aware, is a pretty good work out.  As will, I assume, be shoveling my car out tonight.

When I got to work, I found my supervisor becoming increasingly shocked about people not coming to work.  "It's not that bad out," she kept saying.  Then she left the earliest out of all of us and said this morning that she wouldn't have made it home if she hadn't been driving a 4-wheel drive truck.

That's the opposite of what normally happens around here.  Anytime there's serious weather (you know, pretty much every day for over two months now) people come in with increasingly scary reports of what it's like outside.  Then they go back to their cubicles and stay until their workday is over.

At first, the dire reports used to really freak me out and I even left early a few times as a result.  Only to find that it was pretty much like it always is these days: snowing, yet with no signs of the impending apocalypse, as I had been led to believe.

For example, here's a typical progression, this one from when we got some freezing rain last week:

"It's pretty slick out there.  Margaret did a 360 spin just trying to get out of the parking lot."

"Jim ran into the post office for 15 minutes and his car iced up again by the time he came out."

"There's no traction at all on the roads.  People are sliding down hills backward."

"Phil froze right to the pavement trying to walk to his car.  Then he got smashed by a runaway semi."*   

"Buildings are sliding right off their foundations and into on-coming traffic.  The Monona Terrace fell into the lake and caused a tidal wave that could have wiped out the entire city, had it not frozen in mid-air!"

"DOOM!  ICY FREEZING DOOM!  SAVE YOURSELVES!!!"

And so on.

We're all set for the moment though with sunny skies, newly plowed roads, and no more snow!  Until we get some flurries later today.  And snow showers tomorrow.  But then it's going to be beautiful except for the subzero temperatures over the weekend.  Followed by more snow every damn day until the end of time.  According to the Weather Channel.  As interpreted by me.

* (Not to worry, I made that up!  Phil is fine!)**

**(I made that up too - there is no Phil!  What you people won't fall for!)

When it rains it pours and when it snows it NEVER EVER STOPS SNOWING OH MY GOD.

Yes, I know.  I've been talking about the weather a lot.

I am also perfectly aware that I chose to move here, a state which I knew full well had the kind of winters that I do not enjoy.  But this winter?  This winter is special.  Because it is RELENTLESS.

For example, this week:

Monday - 45 degrees!  And rain!  Increased freak winter flooding on the Rock River forces people to flee their homes.

Tuesday - 70 degree drop in temperature during the day, from 45 to a wind chill of 35 below.  Freezing rain.  Blowing snow.  Winter Storm Warning.  Wind Chill Advisory.  Strong Wind Advisory.

Wednesday - Wind Chill Advisory.  School is canceled even in my hometown, where this happens roughly as often as President Bush utters the phrase I was wrong.

Thursday - Below zero wind chill, warming to low twenties.  Snow showers.

Friday - Snow showers.

Saturday - Snow showers.

Sunday night into Monday morning - Rain.  Freezing rain.  Sleet.  Snow.  Locusts.  Boils.  Frogs.

You get the idea.

It becomes difficult to believe that it's ever going to end.  Or slow down, even.  From here on out, it's only snow for me.

It's like this one time in college when I got really bad bronchitis and began to think that I would be coughing for the rest of my life.  It took a couple of months.  MONTHS.  Of coughing up goo!  Which damaged the muscles in my throat to the extent that I sounded like Minnie Mouse for another couple of months after that.  Sexy.

Come to think of it, all of that happened during my last winter here.  Maybe that's why I don't remember winter being this bad.  I was distracted by antibiotics and inhalers and hyperventilating (oh my!)  I'm pretty sure though that this is just an extra-double-special horrendous winter.

Seeing as how I did eventually stop coughing and my voice no longer resembles that of a cartoon mouse, I suppose I ought to be able to wrap my mind around the concept that one day, it will be spring.  And maybe, if we're very lucky, by the time summer comes it will even stop snowing.

It's a post about winter. How utterly unexpected.

Hello, lover.

I picked this up Monday on my way home from work.  It might just be my new favorite thing in the entire world.  It is surprisingly powerful for how small it is.  (Mom: it has automatic shut-off to keep it from overheating.  And I turn it off AND unplug it before I leave.  I am not going to burn the house down.  At least not with this heater.)

See, because while my one radiator was doing a bang up job of heating my place for most of the winter, the bedroom has always been noticeably chillier and has gotten downright frigid since this below zero nonsense started.  The radiator is located in the corner of my living room on the far side of my rather large apartment from the bedroom.  Here is a diagram that I have made for you:

(Shut up.  Maybe you are good at writing in that Paint program, but this was my first attempt.  Also, it may be easier with a mouse than a touchpad.)

(I went ahead and included my couch since you all are already so well acquainted.)

(If you are attempting to use my map to case my apartment so you can rob me of my valuables, you should know that I don't have any.  Unless you count my Sterling Sharpe autograph, but it is signed to Lori and is attached to a photo of Sterling and me, so you having it would just be stupid and weird.)

Two of those bedroom walls are exterior walls, so you can see how that one radiator, powerful though it may be, would not be able to stand up to the subzero cold.  The strange lack of bedroom door may help a little, although it's not like I'd close it anyway, living alone like I do.  I like it cool for sleeping, but not to the extent that I wake up at 5 am from being cold, despite flannel pajamas, socks, flannel sheets, one blanket, and two quilts.  Which is where the space heater came in.

You might think that I should just light a fire in my giant fireplace, but when I asked the handyman about whether it was safe to use, he seemed to think that the only way to find out would be to light a fire and see what happened.  I am not so comfortable with this approach, nor do I think my landlord would approve.  So my fireplace, while pretty, serves no actual purpose.  Sort of like Barker's Beauties or Jessica Simpson.

Yet another odd thing about me (I don't know what that puts us up to now) is that while I am perpetually cold, apparently I give off enough heat that I can be (and have been) characterized as a human space heater.  It's like hugging a furnace! I have been told.  Because I do not selfishly hoard my body heat like some people.  Because I AM A GIVER.

It's supposed to stay really, unreasonably cold here through Friday, when we will also get even more snow.  Fun fact: We have already had more snow since December than we should have for an entire average winter.  If there were any justice in this world, that would mean that there would be no more snow this year.  Of course, we know that we live in a world without justice, as evidenced by the fact that while there are so many people with no jobs, Ryan Seacrest has five or six.

Well, that about wraps up this week's edition of Damn. It's Cold.  Until next time!

Some things about living in Wisconsin

But first, allow me to say that if Jim Gaffigan comes to a theater anywhere near you, you simply must go.  I don't know when, if ever, I have laughed that hard for that long.

So, it's below zero around here at the moment.

I got one of those forwarded emails a little while back that was supposed to list ways to know if someone is from Wisconsin.  Some of these were accurate, such as the ability to pronounce Oconomowoc.  The difficulty there was demonstrated by a flummoxed Willard Scott attempting to wish some very old person there a happy birthday (as shown to me by The Soup.  Like I get up early enough in the morning to watch any TV before work, much less Willard Scott.) 

Not so accurate - You find ten degrees "a little nippy".  I don't actually remember if it said ten degrees specifically, but it was some very small number of degrees.  Yes, I've gone soft about the cold in the years since I left, but at no time in the twenty-one years and eleven months I lived here before leaving did I find below-freezing temperatures "a little nippy".  Although I did make it this far into winter before breaking out my new weapon against the serious cold: my dad's Navy pea-coat. 

My sister claimed it several years back and has been hogging it all this time, despite having lived in Texas.  She finally coughed it up this summer and I looked like a crazy person carrying it on the plane from San Antonio to Chicago.  Like I was an idiot who thought it was going to be freezing cold in Chicago in August.  The coat consists of roughly forty pounds of wool and giant buttons that were clearly designed to be jammed through uncooperative buttonholes by stronger, manlier fingers than my own.  It's not only incredibly warm, but also functions in much the same way as wrist and ankle weights do in making the act of walking around in it a workout. 

I would submit that you know you're in Wisconsin (or a neighboring cold state) when you look at the forecast and think to yourself Hot damn!  Fifty degrees!  And rain!  Above freezing long enough for four whole days of rain!  I'll believe it when I see it.

And, finally, we have the requisite cheese-related item.  (Hey, stereotypes exist for a reason.)  My mom asked me to take her some brick cheese when I went to Texas since she can't find it there and it is the one and only cheese for making a proper grilled cheese.  (She did not know, until she asked me this, about how when we were kids, one of us would take a bite of a grilled cheese and another one of us would slowly pull the sandwich away to see how far the cheese would stretch without breaking.  Answer: all the way across the kitchen.) 

I was a little bit concerned that I might have some trouble getting a cooler bag of cheese through airport security.  Particularly after the first security guy was uptight and rude.  (In his defense, his birth surely pre-dated manned flight.)  But then my carry-on went through and another guy said to me in a totally nonchalant voice, "Cheese?"  Right.  Because this is Wisconsin.  OF COURSE I had cheese in my carry on.  I said something about it being for my mom and the guy told me that he always has to take cheese to his sister.  In CALIFORNIA.  Ha!  Take that, California cheese people.  As if the quality of the cheese has one single thing to do with the relative happiness of the cows.

There you have it.  I've boiled the Wisconsin experience down to cheese and the cold.  That doesn't quite cover all of it, but I need to get into my flannel pajamas and into bed (which now includes an additional quilt added at 5:30 this morning) so beer and the Packers will just have to wait for another time.

In which I say nice things about winter. No, really.

But first, allow me to point out that we are getting an additional three to five inches of snow today.  Powdery snow, they tell me, not that icy crap from the weekend.  Still.  That Al Gore is full of shit.  WHERE IS MY GLOBAL WARMING, AL GORE?  I WILL TAKE IT NOW.

So I thought I'd try to think of some good things about winter.  It won't be easy, but I've got to challenge my brain somehow and this temp job is clearly not the way.

1. Christmastime, obviously.  Except this only gets you through the first month, meaning that we need more things.

2. Bowl games, NFL Playoffs, and the Superbowl.  But again, this only gets us through so much winter.  This might be harder than I thought.

3. Flannel sheets.  I put mine on Sunday night and also commenced with the sleeping in flannel pajamas.  I am always the tiniest bit concerned about this combination.  If I toss and turn too much, could I create a spark?

4. Coming in from the cold and getting into a hot shower, then proceeding directly to cozy sweats or pajamas.  If a blanket, the couch, and hot chocolate are involved, so much the better.

5. My snottiness seemed to intensify yesterday, proving I believe that I am in fact allergic to winter.  This is not a good thing, but the sexy Kathleen Turner voice that I developed overnight was.  Sadly, it seems to have normalized now, but it was gravelly while it lasted.

6. Sledding.  I haven't actually participated in sledding in more years than I can remember, but I did, while in Colorado a few years ago, participate in the granddaddy of all sledding-related activities: snowtubing.  I thought that this was going to be essentially sledding, just on an inner tube, something that we did as kids right in our hill of a front yard.  But this was extreme snowtubing.  Xtreme, even.  This is more ski slope than hill, and they even have a contraption that pulls you back up, right in the comfort of your tube, thus eliminating the real downside of sledding, the walking back up the hill.  This has to go on my top five list of most fun things I've ever participated in.  Oooh, I could add some photos when I get home.

7. Once my car warms up, I shoot all that beautiful heat directly toward the floor and feel my feet thaw out, despite the fact that I had not even realized they were cold.  Of course, having conscious awareness that my feet are cold would be like having conscious awareness that I am breathing.  Which is to say, it would be constant.

8. And the very best thing about winter?  When it's over.  After a real, northern winter, those first few nice days are the best thing ever of all time.  You cannot truly appreciate nice weather until you have suffered through what felt like it would surely be never-ending cold and miserableness.

That's all I can come up with.  Got anything else for us?  I'm trying to find a silver lining here and am coming up aluminum, at best.

Wednesday Afternoon Where I Live

Political Geek HQ right down the street.  And so pretty!

Who needs DC?  You know, daffodil-wise.

Sunny, 70s, with a nice breeze off the water?  Don't mind if I do.

Could somebody bring me an iced mocha and maybe massage my shoulders?  Because I think this day could get a tiny bit more perfect.

I was going to take a photo for you of a cloud that looked like a Snork, but my camera battery died, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Admit it, you'd decide to stay here too.

That's right - for the forseeable future, I live in Madison.  The first person to use the word "snow" gets punched in the eye.

Photo Friday

So, I still have no couch, which means that I also still have nothing hung on the walls.  But here are some photos to tide you over until the rest of the place is photo-ready.

Just before moving, I needed to buy some new face wash.  I like a pump bottle for the shower, and I bought this one specifically because it had a cap to make it all nice and movable.  Then, when I went to pack it, I flashed back to packing up the cabinet under my bathroom sink and thinking, Why did I keep some random cap?  Trash!  Which is why my face wash rode shotgun.

Is Acne Stress Control not the stupidest name you've ever heard?  Right up there with Oil Free Acne Wash, also by Neutrogena.  I do not want to wash my acne, Neutrogena, I want to get rid of it.

Anyway, eventually I got to Madison.  Where this is the view from my front door:

It looks even prettier when it is not just about to thunderstorm.  A thunderstorm which made me realize, as my power flickered, that I have one thousand candles and...zero matches.

And this is my old timey sink, with delicious strawberries.  Aren't strawberries pretty much the best thing ever?

Credit for the "old timey" phrasing goes to Sharon, who used to have an old timey stove.  My stove is entirely uninteresting.

But here's the eat-in portion of my kitchen, as seen from the folding chair that comprises my current living room seating.

This fridge wanted me to have Diet Dr Pepper!

The floor snob is happy!  Also, there's part of my new bed frame.

Check out the doorknob on my closet!

I did not do this on purpose.  This is my go-to I'm-cold-and-want-something-warm-and-extremely-unflattering sweatshirt.  But it seems rather more appropriate here.  When in Madison...

Thank goodness for that full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.  Because the one I brought with me is in teeny tiny pieces.

Coming soon: living room photos!  Just as soon as Ty Pennington coughs up my new couch.  And I get off the Internet and put my new desk together!

But first, one final photo for today.  This, Internet, is where I used to live and who I used to live with.

I miss you guys.

Live from America's Dairyland!

Today, Lori's Secret Paranoia Revealed!

Confession time: I have a totally irrational fear of flat tires.  I guess I worry about this more than an actual breakdown because I feel like if my car breaks down, it will be very obvious and also because no one will expect me to be able to do anything about that myself.  But I should probably be able to change a tire, right?  My inability to do this is seriously not in keeping with this whole independent woman thing I'm shooting for.

So when I run over something on the road, I turn off the radio to listen and make sure everything is ok.  Except now I know that there is no need to do so in case of a blowout, no matter how loud you may have the music.  I learned this when I should have been within about two hours of arrival at my new apartment in Madison.

I made it over to the right shoulder, stopped, and called Geico.  After all, I have been paying them for roadside assistance for years now for just such an occasion.  The operator asked me exactly where I was.  I told her that I had just seen a sign telling me that I was 56 miles south of Rockford, Illinois.  This information was no help at all.  I couldn't give her a mile marker and for reasons that pass the understanding, knowing exactly how many miles south of a city I was gave her NO IDEA where on Earth I might be.

She told me to call 911 and have them trace my call.  Which I did.  Except the operator there said no, of course there was no way of tracing my call.  She asked me where I was and was similarly dumbfounded when I reported that I was 56 miles south of Rockford.  She'd have state troopers look for me, but without a mile marker, this could take a long time.  This is also what I was told by the state trooper who called me.  I could be sitting there for quite some time while he searched for me.

Rockford is apparently a cagey city, the location of which cannot be determined by anyone in the Northern Illinois area.

Eventually, Trooper Anderson located me and, God bless him, changed the tire himself.  Which also involved moving the 27 inch TV that was sitting on top of my spare.  Trooper Anderson, you are my hero and if I didn't know that you had a wife from Eau Claire and an eleven year-old son who is a real science whiz, I would have kissed you right on the mouth.

I was off once again, driving roughly thirty miles per hour slower than I had been.  I was nearing the Wisconsin border when I was informed that my couch would not fit through the door to my apartment.  (My movers beat me there by several hours and went ahead and moved my stuff without me.)    Outstanding.

On the other hand, I was informed shortly thereafter that Toppers were on their way.  And, coming into Madison, the view of the Capitol and downtown buildings reflected in the lake is really, really beautiful.  The weather has been perfect and my apartment really is quite adorable.  Maybe, someday, if I ever get all of the boxes out of my living room, I'll take pictures for you.  My new couch should even be here any day now.  Sectional.  Small pieces for fitting through narrow hallways and doors.  My two new tires are also quite lovely.

And I have already been officially welcomed by the city of Madison.

Thanks, Madison.  Happy to be here.

Rethinking this.

Did you know that Madison has only one Target?  And IT IS NOT EVEN SUPER.  The nearest SuperTarget?  IN ILLINOIS. 

What have I done?

(Then again, there's this.)

Edited to Add: Whoops.  I only searched for Targets with pharmacies.  There are indeed two Targets in Madison.  And I learned once again on my lunch break today why I should not have my prescriptions filled at Target anyway.  I had fifteen minutes to kill.  I wanted bottles of water (for I am a considerate move-ee and provide beverages for my movers) and cereal bars.  Then I had fourteen minutes to kill.  In which time I accidentally picked up a skirt and AN OTTOMAN.  Nevermind that I was going to wait until I got there and see what kind of space I had for one.  It was on sale!  I SAVED SIXTEEN DOLLARS.  Curse you Target and your bag of tricks!

Status of hell: getting a mite frosty.

Here are five words that I never thought I'd say:

I'M

MOVING

BACK

TO

WISCONSIN.

But it's only for the summer!  I'm moving to Madison, to be specific, which is a great town where I always said I'd love to live if only it weren't so damn cold.  But between the end of May and mid-August, it won't be!  In fact, according to the Internet, the average high temperature in July is 84 degrees.  Whereas, according to my personal observations, the average high in Austin in July is one million degrees.  And if I get the superadorable apartment that I applied for this weekend, I will be very near a park and a lake and all sorts of being-outdoors-in-the-beautiful-weather goodness.  (That's right, Internet, I went to Madison this weekend and I didn't even tell you, for I am a woman of mystery.)  (Not really.)

Just one major downside.  I will surely get my accent back.  People, I worked long and hard to get rid of it.  The Wisconsin accent has got to be one of the unsexiest accents going.  I know several of you reader people live there, and I do so hate to disparage my motherland, but folks, it's worse than you realize.  I may go nasal again against my will, but as God as my witness, I will not return to calling it pop.

Along with the Lone Star State, I am also leaving the go go world of office temping.  I have a job in Madison teaching reading and doing basically what I did back in San Antonio before I left to embark on a fabulous career in the world of educational publishing.  We all see how well that worked out.  It is my experience that teaching is a calling and you can try to run but never actually escape it.  Like Jonah avoiding Nineveh, you only get so far.  Of course, I only wound up in a cubicle in a semiconductor company, which is at least a little bit better than the digestive tract of a big fish (if only because I doubt Jonah had access to free Diet Dr Pepper), but you get the idea. 

Growing up, I always wanted to be a teacher  until people told me that I was too smart and needed to do bigger and more impressive things.  So I got a political science degree instead and wound up...teaching civics.  So as of June, it's back to little chairs and Bob Books and "what does E say?" for me.  To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to it.  I know that very smart people are supposed to be lawyers or something, but how often does the average attorney get to know without a doubt that he or she has changed the entire trajectory of a person's life?  Because that's what teaching a person to read can do.

So anyway, that's the news.  I move Memorial Day weekend.  And if you live in the Austin area, may Amy and I offer you a reasonably priced printer, microwave, washer/dryer, breadmaker, or end table?  Everything must go!