Are you blogging on your enormous bean bag chair whilst pretending that your mother will not be arriving at an unspecified time tomorrow morning for an unspecified activity?
No? Good for you.
As for me, I am enjoying my first unscheduled night, possibly ever. I should be vacuuming though, as mother will be coming to stay tomorrow and the second she walks in I will see a Harvey-sized dust bunny half way under my bed and keel over and promptly die of shame.
Instead I am playing a critical observational role in the completion of an entertainment center-like piece of furnishing while drinking tea and actively dreading. (If you dread actively you burn more calories. True story.)
While I'm on the topic of dreading. I think I have mentioned about 47 billion times that I have an awkward non-relationship with my father. My father who will be in Portland on business early next month and wants to get together.
I am rocking both short and long term dread. It is like a new accessory that gives me weird forehead wrinkles.
I have not seen my father since 1998. Prior to that I saw him in maybe '88, '89 somewhere. I hope this isn't some sort of tradition where in every ten years my father swoops in to disappoint me in some new and outlandish fashion. Because I am an idiot and will always set myself up for damage.
You would not think it if you knew me, as I am otherwise a very strong and independent person, but I always am surprised when people suck. Just like Charlie Brown who runs to kick the ball and every time, at the last second, Lucy wrenches the ball away. I know deep inside that when I get there that ball will be gone and I will hate myself just a little bit. But it is in my nature to always try to kick the ball, I have to try. Do my best. Be my best. Even if it is humiliating.
4 comments:
Good luck on your mother visit--dust bunnies are not a cause for shame until they grow teeth and start telling you to do things. Seriously though, I hope the visit goes as smoothly as humanly possible and you don't wake up Sunday yearning for a valium triple shot.
As for Dad Things: You know, I'm right there with you? Very independent, self-sustaining, but when it comes to my dad (especially him, more than other people, but other people always shock me when I get disappointed too) I magically become some stupidly hopeful little girl who really, really should know better by now.
Case In Point: He still hasn't met Lyn Hippo. There's a half dozen cancelled trips where every time he swore he had the ticket and every time this stupid chick fell for it.
SO I'm right there with you and if you ever find the bizarre urge to talk, or maybe just drink about it, give me a call. Dad Issues are shaming.
(forehead wrinkles? so hot.)
Weird, misery actually does love company.
Thanks for your kind words! And offers of coping mechanisms with a twist of lime.
I don't know any coping mechanisms that don't involve either alcohol or days of shutting one self in.
How did the visit go? General okayness?
It went mostly ok. No face punching. Though there were a few moments when I wanted to do some face punching.
One parent down, one parent to go. I am still undecided on how that one will work. BLEH!
Post a Comment