- I am already so behind at work that even going in to the office for several hours yesterday (Saturday) and NOT blogging, I didn’t catch up, and tomorrow I start a week “on service,” which unfortunately does not mean I get serviced; it means seven days seeing patients in the hospital while continuing to do the rest of my job, which means someone is going to be suffering, and mostly that someone is me, though I fear more than a few patients may be feeling the pain too.
- Whenever I bitch about my in-laws, I get an image in my mind of all the things HellBoy’s future partner will say about me. In-law karma is going to bite me in the ass.
This is what actually happened:
6:45 am. HB wakes. TH whisks. I roll over and even manage to pick up the thread of my dream, which had something to do with edible handkerchiefs.
6:47 am. HB is climbing on my head.
6:48 am. TH is attempting to peel a howling HB off my head, explaining that Nana apparently didn’t understand that HB can open doors.
6:54 am. TH succeeds. The howling travels downstairs. I roll over again, but the dream has fled.
6:56 am. Howling.
6:57 am. Howling.
7:03 am. Howling.
7:05 am. Sounds of television (usually forbidden during daytime) echoing up into my bedroom.
7:20 am. I give up and come downstairs and turn off the television.
7:21 am-7:40 am. Howling.
I suppose I could have sedated myself at that point, but although I am generally a big fan of Better Living Through Chemistry, the idea of taking a sleeping pill in order to sleep late seems a bit much.
Then there was breakfast, which involved Nana making 1) pancakes 2) an enormous mushroom cloud of blue smoke and 3) piles of dirty dishes. During the eating of said breakfast, the following conversation took place:
NANA: Eat the pancakes, HB! Eat the yummy pancakes!
HB: I want to eat butter.
NANA: You know, when he comes to our house, he eats a lot more!
ME: Really. [Subtext: Nana truly believes that I do not feed HB enough, and that this is the cause of his small stature, rather than that he might have inherited some short genes, for instance from her side of the family, where none of the men stand above five four.]
PAPA: That’s true! I think it’s because if his cousin is there, it’s like a competition. Are you going to eat that pancake? [Note: Nana also loves to tell stories about how Papa’s mother used to feed him raw eggs when he was a child to try to fatten him up. Papa is now of Shrek-like proportions. For some reason this is supposed to inspire us.]
NANA: Maybe it’s like with Annie and Jasmine. H__ can never get Annie to eat at her house unless she cooks her something really special, but when she brings her to our house and she gets to eat next to Jasmine, she’s fine!
ME: Are you saying that H__ has an anorexic GOLDEN RETRIEVER?
TH: [laughing so hard he starts weeping and wheezing]
HB: I want to eat whipped cream.