Note from a fly…

If there had been a fly on my wall last night, roughly between the hours of 8:30-11:00 pm, this is sort of what happened…  

Not an atypical evening at home, which is probably why the reaction seemed weird when i was trying to explain it to a friend at work this morning….  And probably why i do not just sit around at home more often.  

In the big leather armchair, at the laptop.  Five different windows open, flipping between them, while on the phone with Mom, making arrangements for a visit this weekend.  Deciding to take Mom to see a local theater production, buying tickets while listening to Mom describe all of the food she’s eaten since Sunday.  

Off the phone with Mom, pulls up phone number from computer. Dials.  Leaves message with friend of stroke victim, who is primary care  coordinator while friend is still in the hospital.  Hangs up, wanders into kitchen, opens refrigerator and stares at contents.  Closes fridge, snags purple popsicle from freezer, returns to chair and laptop.   

Daughter enters room, with toys from pet store for dog and cat.  Once dog is distracted with stuffed duck, both trample down the stairs to torture cat with robotic mouse.  Cat only mildly amused.  Mother and daughter highly amused.  For about five minutes.  

Return upstairs to chair, snagging SCUBA book en route.  Turn Presidential “State of the Union” address on kitchen TV, and listen while doing homework.  In between homework questions, alternate between surfing internet and yelling at television “C’mon, Muthafuckah!  You are the President!  Take it!  Command the room!  COMMAND THE PEOPLE!”  

Finish first chapter of homework, and realize that if Mom is visiting over the weekend, the television in the guest room needs to be operational.  Trample downstairs to storage room, retrieve 13″ television and digital converter box.  Clear off bed, desk and whatnot while untangling cords, and still occasionally yelling at the kitchen television.  Watch approximately one minute of presidential address from small television.  

Stop by refrigerator, open door, stare at contents — disappointed that something new and tasty has not magically appeared over the past hour or so.  Grab an orange popsicle from freezer, return to chair, check e-mail, start SCUBA chapter 3 homework.  Scream at television “Overturn ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’!  Oh, yeah!  But really do it this time…”.   

Return to refrigerator.  Ignore food.  Fix cranberry-vodka cocktail.  Respond to e-mail ping – message from ex-girlfriend of stroke victim.  Another update, suggestion that his local network will need lots of help when he’s released from the hospital, and that he responded with huge smile when they told him i’d been in touch.  Weep uncontrollably*, while responding to her message.  

Blow nose, loudly.  Return to homework.  Yell at television a few more times while drinking cranberry-vodka cocktail.  Turn television off to avoid hearing Republican response.  Finish homework, simultaneously finish drink.  Put on pajama pants and down jacket, put dog on leash,  go out to garage.  Smoke cigarette with daughter’s boyfriend, while dog destroys plants with urine.  

and i wasn't even that jacked up yesterday...

  

* Not a plea for “hugs”.  i cry a lot.  It’s not a big deal.  Fuck, at my age?  i can get weepy at a god damned Honda commercial…