who says you can't go home?
It was a rough week. I was not feeling well. I had an interview with KPERS [Kansas Public employees retirement system] which I realized I really wanted. I hope they liked me. M. got a call from his dad Saturday morning: His grandfather, who has been terminally ill for the last 6 months, finally passed away. I helped M. find flights, M. pulled out his suit and packed a suitcase to go to Cleveland, announced he'd be coming back on Wednesday before the seder and disappeared into the ether.
I certainly didn't want to stay in the apartment by myself. So I came back to chez parents. Granted, its kind of strange here because the house is very clean (the cleaning ladies did an awesome job!) in anticipation of passover and the attached guests. The dogs are also missing (m. packed them off to the "doggie hotel" and invited the carpet people to come steam the dog pee out of the carpet. My sister's bf is also highly allergic to furry things, so its just as well. The D-o-g-s freak out when a lot of new people come over.) Grandma Fanny is highly disappointed. She and the dogs really enjoy each other's company. I agree. I was sad there was no molly-dog running around last night to keep me company.
It's fun to come back to the Borg Collective. We finish each others' sentences, make obscure HP references, hide from answering ringing phones ("Because we don't want to talk to them!")
"good night, snuggly parents!" I'd say.
"Good night, snuggly llama!" they'd reply.
Dad solemnly reminds me that my eggs are aging. "They're not old, but they are older than they were yesterday. You'd better hurry up."
"Thank you, dad."
Mom: (whispers)"Baby: very very very very very bad idea."
"thank you, mom."
Oh the Borg collective. I'm not sure M. will ever understand completely. I only ask that he tries to tolerate it.
I certainly didn't want to stay in the apartment by myself. So I came back to chez parents. Granted, its kind of strange here because the house is very clean (the cleaning ladies did an awesome job!) in anticipation of passover and the attached guests. The dogs are also missing (m. packed them off to the "doggie hotel" and invited the carpet people to come steam the dog pee out of the carpet. My sister's bf is also highly allergic to furry things, so its just as well. The D-o-g-s freak out when a lot of new people come over.) Grandma Fanny is highly disappointed. She and the dogs really enjoy each other's company. I agree. I was sad there was no molly-dog running around last night to keep me company.
It's fun to come back to the Borg Collective. We finish each others' sentences, make obscure HP references, hide from answering ringing phones ("Because we don't want to talk to them!")
"good night, snuggly parents!" I'd say.
"Good night, snuggly llama!" they'd reply.
Dad solemnly reminds me that my eggs are aging. "They're not old, but they are older than they were yesterday. You'd better hurry up."
"Thank you, dad."
Mom: (whispers)"Baby: very very very very very bad idea."
"thank you, mom."
Oh the Borg collective. I'm not sure M. will ever understand completely. I only ask that he tries to tolerate it.