I Stink at April Fool's

I love April Fool's Day. It's a no-expectations, no-gifts holiday. It gives me a pass to be my true, awful self. But I have a problem the last couple of AFD's...my Facebook and Instagram posts, which I find hilarious and terrible, have sailed right by most people who read them. Too subtle? I dunno. In 2023 I announced that I'd watched a few YouTube videos, bought a bulldozer and learned to use it. I posted an outrageous video of a pro I hired skillfully obliterating a hedge of Japanese honeysuckle on my meadow edge, saying it was me operating the dozer. What did I get? "You GO, girl!" "Wow!" "You're AMAZING!"  and on and on. Virtually no one said, "Wait a minute. You did WUT?"

I posted it on April 1!! Figured I'd fool a few, but who buys a bulldozer and learns how to operate it by watching YouTube? Not me, sister.

Fast forward to April 1, 2024. I take a bunch of Before photos of my house interior, marred by black smoke from our awful gas fireplace (just another in a long line of things I have yet to see to). 32 year old carpet, and a bookcase from hell.  The bookcase is a jumbled mess, with ugly black smoke streaks on the wall above it. Granted, you have to look closely to see the smoke marks, and the carpet doesn't look 32 years old. It's livable. I lived in it for 32 years!

Wayfair curtains that turned from gray to pink when exposed to sun. A collapsing 25-year-old sofa, draped in a Guatemalan spread. Liam's studio corner, designated with pinned-up prints and drawing table. I loved having him drawing there in the living room, don't get me wrong. It is a bit busy for my tastes though.

  You can really see the smoke streaks in this shot of the east wall. And oh, the ceiling. Egad.

And the bookcase. OMG. No. NOOOO. This bookcase (and three more in my bedroom and studio) contained about half the books Bill brought home from Bird Watcher's Digest over the nearly 30 years he worked there. The rest were in the basement. I came to the relationship with my own ton of books, too. But Bill just blithely brought home a load of books every week, and I had to figure out where to put them all. I didn't do a good job of it. The bookcases at the magazine's office were overflowing and stacked on the floors, too. That's what happens to any magazine that does book reviews. Publishers start sending you everything they print. Unbelievable. And look at the smoking on the walls!

So I posted these Before photos as if I'm bursting with pride, and write a caption, trying to sound like a self-satisfied Instagram "influencer:"

"The house renovation is all but done and I promised you photos! Here's the living room. I had the painters put an aged patina on the walls, imitating the smoking marks seen in old colonial homes. For the bookshelves, photo 3, I went for an über-trendy, "Book Rich" look with a casual but studied jumble of tomes that I think nicely conveys "Intellectual Curiosity." What do you think? 

Then I posted a poll, which I never do, with two choices. "I love it!" and "That's a renovation??"

29 poll responses, and only 10% chose option 2. 90% said they loved it. Oh no!

333 likes, and 20 rah rah I love it comments. Thank goodness, 14 of the commenters indicated they got it with laugh emojis or sly comments. 

That was Instagram. Facebook was way worse. 555 likes, 89 comments. 62 commenters lauding it, trying to be nice in the face of the evidence that it looked pretty terrible. Only 10 indicated that they got the joke. 

I had the painters put an aged patina on the walls, imitating the smoking marks seen in old colonial homes.  

Who does that??

For the bookshelves, photo 3, I went for an über-trendy, "Book Rich" look with a casual but studied jumble of tomes that I think nicely conveys "Intellectual Curiosity." 

First off, have I ever used the words, "I went for an über-trendy look"? 

Second, would I actually write, "that I think nicely conveys 'Intellectual Curiosity' with capital letters and quotation marks??

I know what happened here. People are not dumb. Far from it. No, they are kind. They may have private thoughts about things they see in the photos, but I've said I'm happy with the renovation and they are happy for me. They don't want to risk offending someone who seems to be genuinely excited about her smoke-striped walls. Who knows what they're saying to their friends though? I can only guess. "What a hot mess that Zickefoose woman is! Have you seen her paint job?" 

 I have no pride. I'll do anything on April Fool's Day.

I have painted myself into a corner. Now I have to show everyone the actual After photos! And that I'm delighted to do! But there's a story in between that I think will resonate for anyone who's undertaken a home renovation. I'm still at it, in fact. Here's a sneak peek at the living room, my cozy clean new refuge. 

I have spent all day (when I wasn't reaming piles of dead stinkbugs out of window frames) on this post. It has unfolded like a Burmese python and it has gotten way too long. I reluctantly must leave the rest for another post, but I promise I'll be back soon! Until then, enjoy the new look and thank you for being so kind and encouraging on my Instagram and Facebook feeds. I really do have the nicest friends, and I don't deserve you all.

Chet Baker, Tax Hound

I was good this year. I did the bulk of my tax preparation in January, surprising the daylights out of myself. I knew that, as onerous as it is to organize and figure up a million flying receipts, it would be even less fun in April.

Even if you have someone prepare your taxes, for a freelancer like me, the bulk of the work has to happen on your own desk. I crunch everything down to neat figures encased in little penciled boxes, and supply that to my preparer, Jim. I like Jim, partly because I can make him laugh any time. Much of what I do for a living actually turns out to be pretty funny.

Loyal to Rea and Associates, I don't patronize Liberty Tax Preparersno matter how alluringly Miss Liberty, the Bearded Woman, waves from the corner of Acme and Greene. I'm sorry, but this is a major economic indicator right there--a grown man being willing to put on a verdigris gown and tiara and wave all day in the freezing cold. There's one guy who waves, who won't wear the starry crown. I don't blame him. Then there's this girl who jumps up and down, tirelessly. Makes you want to get a paintball gun.

Right across the street, there are people walking up and down with giant cardboard pizzas on their bellies. I wonder what it's like to be a pizza person. It could happen. It probably pays better than being a natural history essayist.

Yes, this is another Chet Baker post. No, I didn't find him a new home. I have gotten three private emails from people about my April 1st post, in which I said we'd made the difficult decision to find Chet Baker a new home. Sincere, tearful letters from people begging me to reconsider. Remember when Tweety Bird would put his hands behind his back and bat his eyes and say, "Dey don't know me vewwy well, do dey?"I have had Charlie the macaw for 22 years. In that time, he has perforated me more times than I care to recount. He is a preferential chewer, which is to say he chooses the most valuable thing in sight to destroy, with books and electronics his top picks. He screams like a maniac, lunges at Bill's feet, kicks Chet Baker out of his soft bed, and poops everywhere. And I haven't even come close to getting rid of HIM. I love him. And I cannot think of anything Chet Baker could do that could move me to give him up. If Chet Baker had a rage attack and chewed off my left arm, I'd say, "Whew! Good thing I'm right handed! Here, Baker. Want a bikkit?"

So that thing about getting rid of Chet was a joke, son, an April Fool's joke, and not a very funny one, it turns out. Chet Baker (and Charlie) are here to stay, forever in my heart and home.

Like I said, I have plenty of help with my taxes.
You have me, Mether. I, Chet Baker, am here to help organize your receipts. What are receipts? Are they like bikkits? May I have a bikkit? Or at least, can you mess with me right now? I would like to be messed with. Or to have a bikkit. Your choice. Or we could take a walk. It is not that cold outside.

Chet Baker. You are very talkative, and Mether is busy today. How did you get the idea that it would be all right to sit upon my tax papers?Well, it is the best place in the whole house to watch for chiptymunks, up here on your table. Oh. Are these receipts that I am sitting on?

Yes they are, little Cat Dog, who is so fond of sitting up high and getting in the way of progress. But I am taking a break now. I would rather watch for chiptymunks with you for a little while than do this, any day. You smell like sunshine.

So I'd written this post and I got an email from my new bloggrrl friend Murr Brewster who writes this hilarious blog called Murrmurrs. She said she shouldn't be emailing because she was supposedly "finishing up her taxes"--we all know how that generally goes. So I sent her the photo directly above, of Chet Baker keeping my receipts warm with his fanny. Oh, sorry, Brits, his bum.
I wrote, "This is what tax day looks like in Whipple, Ohio."

And Murr freaked out and sent me this photo of what tax prep day looks like in Portland, Oregon:photo by Murr Brewster

Different animal, same idea. Sit on the important stuff. Get butt all over the thing they're working on at the moment. Then they can't ignore you. Now, we all know you can't pose a cat. And I beg you to note what's on Murr's computer screen. It is he, Chet Baker, whose fame stretches all the way across this great, expensive country of ours. Happy IRS Day!