Netflix almost killed me

Thomas has a freebie membership to Netflix, for three months. This is the perfect gift for a kid who watches movies in almost every language.

I asked him once, what's the weirdest language you ever watched a movie in? Vietnamese, he said. Crazy. The kid absolutely loves movies.

So he was getting a movie almost every day. I asked the other day, how come you haven't gotten a movie in a while? I mean, he was almost accosting the mailman, waiting for his movies to arrive. Tells me that "oh, I need to send the other ones back," then mentions he can't find Bobby. The movie, not the Brady. A good movie, at that. Mentions that he should look in the couch, cause that's the last place he saw it. Oye.

So I decided to go looking for it, whilst the heir to the throne is at work. First of all, let me say, it's a dual reclining sofa, so there are lots of places for things to slide into. Here's how it went:

First, I tried the right side, by the armrest, deep into the abyss. Handful of dog hair. A Goldfish. The cracker, not the fish. A pen. More dog hair.

Next, I went to the back of the right side. A sock, in the corner. Dog hair. A pair of footies, all wrapped up from the laundry. A broken pencil and an intact one. Another pen. A container of Smashbox eye shadow, probably still left over from Christmas. A Blockbuster gift card. No one seems to know if that's still there from Christmas, or if it's been used up already, but it's definitely from someone's stocking.

Move to the middle of the couch. Another two pens. A dry erase marker, in brown. A phone. Yep -- a cordless phone that's been missing for quite a while. More dog hair. Another sock.

Move to the left side of the couch. In the back, I hit the motherlode of socks: two more pairs, folded up from the laundry, and three singles. One pair of brown, and the rest are white. Another pen. No wonder we can't ever find anything to write with around here. Under the left armrest, not much, another sock, covered in dog hair.

Pulled out the footrests to see if I can see the DVD. Can't see anything but about 1/2 an inch of dog hair -- no joke. Got a flashlight, and found a one inch cube of neon colored Post It Notes. The April issue of Guideposts. Aha! I find the wrapper for Bobby, but alas, no DVD.

Still no DVD, so I decide to pull out the couch to see if it's behind it, and vacuum the dog hair. Found the leaf to the dining room table. I have no idea why the hubby put it there, but ok. Notice the three leaded glass windows are full of dog slobber -- a product of them thinking that they will eat the mailman -- so I got the Windex and cleaned them, and the window sills. Found the November 11, 2007 issue of the Indianapolis Star. Found the dog's shock collar, which hasn't been on him for over a week, since Jill went to Canada. A wooden painted Santa that probably fell off the window over Christmas.

Vacuumed, and filled up the Dyson with, you guessed it, dog hair, in a matter of seconds. Found a couple of stray scraps of paper and plastic, and one more Goldfish. Finally give up, and push the couch back, figuring that Thomas is gonna have to look around his room for the movie, because I'm only taking my life in my hands looking for it, one time, and it's gonna be in one of MY rooms, not his.

Walk out in front of the couch, and there it is: not one, but two DVDs. One from Pitney Bowes, for my mail meter, and voila! Bobby!

Thank you, Jesus. If I don't get an asthma attack from what this little search put me through, it'll be a miracle. Just for kicks and giggles, I looked under the loveseat, which gets vacuumed underneath pretty regularly. Just found a cool 30s jabot dress pattern, so I figure that's not too bad.

So I went looking for something that reminded me of Bobby, and found these here 60s leopard stilettos, from Damn Good Vintage. They reminded me of Demi Moore's lounge singer character, but also make me think of all the positives of having a cat. NOT a dog.