I didn't have a chance this morning to post about my conversation with my mother yesterday morning. Let's call it the "I Hate To Tell You" conversation. Boys and girls, this is how the game begins. First, I start off a topic 'cause I learned from last week that unless you want to listen to 1 hour of monologue, you need to come prepared for the game. So I kicked it off with the topic of buying a new refrigerator. To which my mother replied, "Oh, I hate to tell you...." and then proceeded to rant about how much she hates her newish, side by side refrigerator. Yeah, thanks. I WAS excited about my new refrigerator but now I'm actually kind of dreading it for fear of all these impending problems. Next topic - "I hate to tell you..." and launched into the next uplifting monologue.
Granted my mom has been in pain for awhile and she just got those painful nerve injections, and she is still under a lot of stress but come on! Two weeks in a row, it's hard to look forward to next Wednesday's call. I almost need a couple of glasses of wine before the call to make it thru in one piece but then I'd probably trip and fall on the treadmill. Can't wait til next week's call...
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, after I brought I. home from school and we were looking in her bucket at the day's craft production, I happened to look over and there was Fuzzy doing the squat under the kitchen table. I ran over there but by that point, it was too late, she had already started and what the hell was I gonna do. The bus was out of the station so all I could do is wait and then clean up. I don't know what's going on in this house but all I know is that it's just downright shitty.
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