Life, it does so seem to enjoy getting in the way of my blogging. A recap of the events of my life over the last few weeks:
The mumsi entity made it here safe and sound and, in the words of Ben, kicked the home improvement project forward by about a year. While she was here, not only did she clean my fridge, but she helped me pick out new curtains (window dressings for you fancy folk) and hem them and put them up, braved the horror that is our master bathroom and cleaned it until it sparkled, did my laundry and tidied the house every single day.
The woman is a machine. Also, she is a drug dealer. She absolutely forbade me to blog that she was a drug dealer but obviously I can’t hold something like this in. The woman is rolling in the dough I swear. I don’t even want to tell you how much she spoiled me while she was visiting but there were copious amounts of purchasing and taking out for dinners and I have no idea where she got the money from. The only logical explanation is that she is a drug dealer. I’ve never had a mother who was a drug dealer before and I imagine it will be quite the enlightening experience the first time I have to visit her in prison. (It will also be interesting to see how much spam I get from using the word “drug” so many times in one post.)
After two long (long!) years of working full time and going to school part time, my Ben graduated with his Masters degree in Administration and Leadership. The day he finished his oral exam, we celebrated by forcing him to put together our new computer desk with his mother-in-law. It was a well deserved prize after two years of hard work. Just kidding. I mean, we did make him put together a desk but we let him drink beer while he did it. And, surprisingly, the desk still stands despite the vast amount of beer drinking that went on during the construction phase. In all seriousness, I couldn’t be more proud of him.
About a month or so, Ben cornered me in the kitchen after a phone conversation with his boy child:
Ben: So that was the boy child.
Me: Oh yeah.
Ben: He’s thinking of moving back here and is wondering if he could live with us for..
Me: Nope.
Ben: Now hold on, you haven’t heard this out.
Me: Nope.
Ben: He only wants to live with us for a few weeks until he gets a job and a place of his own.
Me: He lived with us before and got neither a job or his own place to live.
Ben: True. But that was a few years ago and he’s matured since then.
Me: Uh-huh.
Ben: Seriously, he really has. We had a good visit with him when he was here.
Me: That’s because he was going home in a couple of days.
Ben: Let’s make a list of pro’s and con’s okay?
Me: Con - He smells.
Ben: Pro - he’s matured…wait, he doesn’t smell.
Me: Yes he does! He smells like wet teenage boy.
Ben: You’re thinking of the dog dear.
Me: Con - he’ll eat my pop tarts.
Ben: Pro - I’ll be able to spend more time with my kid. And we’ll hide your pop tarts.
Me: Con - He sneezes.
Ben: He’s allergic to the cat. Which is a pro - it’ll get him out of the house faster.
Me: Con - I don’t play well with others.
Ben: Ain’t that the truth.
Me: Shut it mister, or you’ll find yourself playing by yourself for the next few months.
Ben: No need to be rude dear.
Me: Con - He’ll sit in my spot on the couch.
Ben: Just ask him to move.
Me: Con - The dogs might try and eat him.
Ben: Isn’t that a pro?
Me: Hmm…good point. Fine, he can stay. But he can only stay until October 1st and then he’s out.
A few days later I was in the bedroom when Ben came busting into the room.
Ben: Guess what dear?
Me: What?
Ben: Looks like the boy child will be here for less time than we originally thought.
Me: Oh really?
Ben: Yup, it looks like the boy child’s best friend has decided to move back here as well.
Me: *horror crossing my face* You did NOT tell the boy child that his friend could stay here as well.
Ben: Um…
Me: Tell me you didn’t tell him he could stay with us. Tell me. I need to hear those words coming from your mouth.
Ben: Dear, your ripping your pillow, put the pillow down and take a few deep breaths.
Me: Tell me!
Ben: Uh, actually I did tell him he could stay with us as well.
Me: blink, blink
Ben: It’ll be fine. With the two of them here they’ll be able to find jobs and an apartment much faster.
Me: I really, really don’t like you today.
Ben: I know dear.
The boys have been here for a couple of weeks now but have only actually stayed with us for a few days at a time. They’ve been house sitting for various relatives and so it’s been going rather smoothly. And to give the boy child credit, he really does seem to have matured and turned into a much nicer person than he was when he lived with us before. I still find it difficult however cause have I mentioned I don’t play well with others? I find it difficult to live with other people, some days just trying to live with Ben who is the most patient and easy going person on the face of the earth is a strain for me. It’s all due to my unrealistic expectation that I should be able to do whatever I want to do whenever I want to do it. And honestly, 99% of the time Ben just goes with the flow and let’s me do my own thing. But that 1% of the time…. it can be a real corker to live with me. Ask Ben, he’ll be honest.
The new bed continues to be fabulous. Although we’ve had it for almost two months now we still find ourselves sleeping on our own side of the bed. The upside is that I have plenty of room to stretch out, the downside is that I often forget that I’m even sleeping with another person. And I’ll let you in on a little secret, I miss being able to turn over and glue myself to Ben’s back whenever I feel like it. In the new bed, I have to worm my way over a few feet and at two in the morning it frankly, feels like a little too much effort. Hence, we are sleeping better but cuddling less. Over the last couple of weeks, as the weather has cooled marginally, I have been making more of an effort to cuddle but a new complication has arrived. She weighs about 4lbs, has green eyes and five of her six ends are pointy and sharp. Ebony the cat has decided the perfect sleeping spot is right between us and refuses to move. Any suggestions on how to delicately remove a razor sharp claw from your shoulder at 3 in the morning?
The new job is going well. At least it will be once they decide where they actually want me to be working. In the three months I’ve been there I have done payroll, accounts payable, accounts receivable and earned income. Presently I am back to being the payroll administrator with a side of earned income coordinator and a sprinkling of accounts receivable back up tossed in. Hopefully this will be the last move I make for at least a week or two.
In seven days it will be my dad’s birthday. For Father’s Day, my brother, Ben and I went in together and purchased him a DVD player. George did all the hard work, researching the DVD player, purchasing it and mailing it. The day he mailed it he gave me a call:
George: Hey Sheila. (That’s what he calls me, Sheila. Don’t ask.)
Me: Dude!
George: I mailed Dad’s Father’s Day present.
Me: Awesome.
George: I wrapped it and got a card and signed it “Love George and Kelly”.
Me: And Ben.
George: Dammit! I forgot to put Ben’s name on it.
Me: Again.
George: Dammit Sheila! That’s right, I did the same thing last year didn’t I.
Me: Yup. Hey baby, George forgot to put your name on Dad’s card again.
Ben: Why does he hate me so?
Luckily, Dad knew the gift would be from Ben as well and kindly wrote his name on the card when he received the gift. Am I the only one that cracks up at the thought of Dad carefully writing Ben’s name on the card as well? Am I?
For his birthday the three of us went in together once again and purchased him a cordless phone (my dad, bless his little heart, still uses a “corded” phone and it’s a pain in the ass to have him say in the middle of a conversation “Oh I have to go, the teakettle’s boiling and the phone won’t reach”). I’m in charge of purchasing the gift and the card and George will be happy to know that I have remembered to place his name on the card. As well as Ben’s.
And on a sad note, Ben had to take his seven year old hedgehog to the vet last week to be put to sleep. Nigel was a baby when Ben got him and while never a super friendly pet he was still a pretty cool guy. Over the last week or so before his death, the spinal degeneration he was suffering from (due to old age) had grown worse and he could no longer move his back legs. We cuddled with him for a few hours Thursday night, he spent most of it resting quietly in our hands his little face tired and worn and Friday morning Ben took Nigel to the vet one last time. With the help of Dr. Mike, Nigel went quietly into that good night, warm and snug in Ben’s hands.
Sleep well brave Nigel. You were our lean, mean poky machine and we miss you.
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