Back to General Silliness…

My husband, the Dear Mr. Demonic, went out of town yesterday. I think he’ll be back today. He’d better be back before the symphony tonight, as we have a date.

I use the opportunity for an empty house to do things I don’t usually do. You know what they say… “when the cat’s away, the mice will play…” Well, I’m guilty as charged.

I used to do crazy stuff while he was away, like paint the bathroom or buy unfinished furniture and finish it. I don’t mind painting small bathrooms, and I really needed that little cupboard that I stained cherry to match my kitchen table. Ah, but that was years ago. My current take on the painting situation is that they have professionals that can do that, and much quicker too. As I get older, I find that I “need” less junk. I used that cupboard to store linens, and now I have decided to give my tablecloths and place mats to the Goodwill. The cupboard followed suit.

My initial plan last night was to knock off a couple thousand words on my novel. I really want to get to the end so I can start editing in earnest. Oh, but how plans can get waylaid…

First, my daughter, the Ms. MiniD, called from California. This call was nice; bubbly, full of news. She was positive, for a change. Of course, she was positive that she needed money, which was one of the purposes of the call. (The major purpose, if you want my opinion.) But it was not all “Mommmmeeeee, I love you Mommy!” which is normally how a call begins if she wants something. (Oh, she wanted banana bread too. I guess that chocolate zucchini cake didn’t sit well with her, although her roommates chowed it down.)

Ms. MiniD also thanked me profusely for sending her David Beckham poster. It’s a monster of a poster from Pottery Barn Teens, and she loves the Becks (or whatever they call him). Then she went into a long launching of how she needs to get a job, and how she hasn’t filled up the gas tank in her car since I left there three weeks ago. I was amazed at her resolve to let her tank go down to fumes before filling up again. Luckily, in California, there is no hint of hurricanes, so their gas prices will stay the same – high. Ours has already gone up 30 cents in anticipation of a storm that hasn’t arrived yet, and we live in the freakin’ Tundra!

I didn’t want to cut my daughter short. After all, I don’t get many happy phone calls from her, so I let her talk about her roommates, her classes, the food at the school, etc. This was a nice bonding experience, but the call cut into my precious computer time.

After the phone call, I got up to stretch my legs and get a glass of wine, when POW! the muscle in my neck (on the right side) spasmed. I had been fearing this happening for a while. It’s happened before, and I can tell when it will happen again. I have to blame my current condition on carrying a huge purse. My doctor says I should stay away from heavy purses, and usually I do. I started carrying this massive tote on my trip to the Left Coast four weeks ago, you know, to have everything handy just in case. After I got home, I neglected to change purses.

Wine and Advil go great together, but the pain was too intense for a long sit-down with the computer. I managed to write a book review that I needed to get out, and that was it. The situation called for another glass of wine, a ThermaCare wrap, and digging the heating pad out of the junk drawer. After a night of sleeping with a rolled up hand towel under my neck, I feel a little better. Not much, but a little.

As for the general silliness, my internet ex-boyfriend (MIB) and still-friend and I participated in some real whacko nuttiness on the instant message the other day. Our conversation took a turn to the weird and funky. We decided to collaborate on a sci-fi fantasy novel set in space. As he is the bona fide scientist, he will provide expertise on the technical aspects, and I will concentrate on the interpersonal. The funny thing is that we live thousands of miles apart and have never met. We plan on never meeting until after the book is published. Maybe not even then.

8 Responses

  1. My daughter called me night before last. She wanted to know what it sounds like or feels like when you have a flat tire. It turns out, through many tears, that she actually did not have a flat tire but instead there is something more serious wrong with her car. A friend of hers suggested it might be the transmission! I would much rather have gotten your kind of call!

  2. I hope that wasn’t the little one, Corina. It has to be scary for a girl her age to have serious car trouble.

  3. Your post reminded me of how much I would look forward, when I was at college, to my one phonecall home per week. I always called home on Sundays, around 1 PM Ohio time, which was 10 AM my mom’s time, and talk for about an hour. It was never long enough.

  4. David, would you like to adopt my Mother?

  5. and is Ms MiniD getting a job then? What kind of job?

  6. David, you are a good boy. My son called me more often when he first went away, and now he still calls more often than this one does. I think she really wants to assert her independence.

    Truce, I don’t know about the jobs. There’s six miles of strip malls between her college and dorm. I’m sure she can find something. She might not like it though, especially if grease is involved. 🙂

  7. When our daughter was at Oberlin, we called her every week. When she was in London, which was really Oberlin in London, we called her most weeks, though it was starting to get expensive. She figured she was far enough away to tell us she was engaged to her Oberlin roommate [female variety].

    Do you really want to hear from your college living kid? There’s no telling what they might tell you.

    Also, Pan and her Internet boyfriend should probably come to Portland to act as chaperones when David and truce get together for their visit. We should probably bring Jane over as well, since this is sort of an arranged—no, not a marriage—arranged arrangement—and as somebody who lives in India, Jane knows all about arrangements—though I may be stereotyping her. Sorry Jane. Only come if you want to meet David and truce and Internet boyfriend.

  8. Well, RN, you have a point there about NOT hearing from your adult children. TMI is a bad thing.

    The trip to Portland sounds like a plan. I definitely think Mr. Rochester needs a chaperone, and MIB needs one just because he can get very silly. I can trust Truce and me and Jane.

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