For the past few nights it’s gone like this. Around midnight my mom insists that I sleep in her bed “because there’s a t.v.” when in actuality I think it’s because she hates to be alone. So anyway, we go to bed and Bob sleeps in his lazy boy because of his oxygen mask. About an hour after I lay down Bob rings his little bell (because with his mask on we can’t hear him) and then an hour after that, and about a couple hours after that. Last night it was, “Can you take me to the bathroom?” Which means we all have to get up to make sure his trip there is safe, etc. It doesn’t make for an extremely motivated Bunny, I must say.
So fine, less sleep…whatever. Then yesterday happens… my brother Keith’s wife, sausage toes Michelle, gets offended at an email I’d sent her. We had been exhanging emails about the kids, Bob, and Easter. She mentioned in one that Keith had come down with a cold and had a cough lingering but that it seemed to be clearing up. The she says that he wanted to come down here for Easter but that she recommended they didn’t because Bob would likely be “down and out” for a little while. So when I replied I said it’d be a bad idea, no a horrible idea, to come down with Keith having a cold. Then, that if he gave Bob a cold, or gave us a one and we gave it to him, Bob would die. So Keith calls yesterday to say that I offended her by saying “horrible idea”… but that my mom wasn’t suppose to tell me this. That sausage toes never wants to “come between you and your family, Keith”. I’m like… what the hell is offensive about saying that? Who is she? The cold virus?
Anyway, later Keith (my brother) calls my mom and mentions that he’s getting a tattoo and that he wanted her to look at it. So she has me pull up an email with the picture and we both gag at it. A big dragon with 3 little dragons that Michelle had drawn. He plans on getting this large tattoo on his ribs just under his arm… and on the morning they plan on coming here. Sooo.. if he gets an infection, my parents will have to deal with it too. Good plan! So he says, “Mom, what do you think?” So my mom tells him she doesn’t like tattoos and she’s concerned about dirty needles and such… and as she’s talking Michelle pipes up with, “Keith, what’s wrong?” and he says, “Oh, my mom’s concerned about my getting a tattoo… she doesn’t like the idea.” and she says, “What? She doesn’t like me because I have a tattoo?” My mom actually has to explain that it’s not the tattoo or the person, she doesn’t like. It’s the possibility of infection, etc. The rest of the night my mom’s storming around the house ranting about it. Thanks, sausage toes. That whore better shape up or there’s going to be major mudder-feekin’ issues brought up and no one’s going to like.
Thank goodness Meghan doesn’t mind when I call her for a few minutes here and there to hear a sane person and talk about things other than Bob’s peeing habits.
Anyway, so my Keith (not my brother) calls me later in the evening, ’round 11ish and I’m telling him how my day’s going and he falls asleep on the phone. When I get frustrated about it, he gets mad at me for getting mad at him. Is it too much to ask for a little time to rant to someone that’s suppose to care about me? If he calls me tonight, we’ll see.
Seriously, I’m starting to think people really suck a lot.