Then I vacuumed the dining room table

*Disclaimer: This post is probably going to be a hot mess.  I've already forgotten some of the stories I wanted to write about, and it just happened two days ago.  And I am writing this at 4 a.m. after waking up an hour ago and not being able to get back to sleep, so I can't deal with all those nicknames.  Characters today: Mom, Dad, Bro, SIL (and possibly also niece and nephew.  haven't gotten that far yet)  And Hitter.  That one I'm pretty comfortable with.

Yesterday morning I get a text message from the Boyfriend (okay he's a character in today's tale too)
Him: what are you up to?
Me: I'm at the farm cleaning my mother's house
*long silent pause*
Me: I should explain, she's not dead or anything.  They're just on vacation and we, umm, kinda had a party at their house while they were gone.  And now I'm cleaning.  Long story.

This past weekend Hitter and I headed to my family's farm.  He had come up with a brilliant birthday present for my dad.  See, Dad has these model trains.  He has some that were his toys when he was a kid, bought another train when Bro and I were kids, and he's picked up quite a few in the last 5 years or so on ebay.  (I refuse to capitalize the b, deal with it.  even though spell check won't deal with it.  ebay has red squiggly line, eBay doesn't.  dammit!  now I capitalized the b *sigh*)  Anyway he used to get the trains out once in a while when Bro and I were kids and just run them around the floor at the bottom of the pool table, and then packed them away for a long time... until the grandkids came along.  Then he got serious, bought some plywood, made a table, bought a whole bunch more track, made a real layout with a rail yard and a mountain and some buildings and a cattle yard and a whole crapload of lights and signals and stuff (as opposed to just running one loop on the floor)

Spell check doesn't like "crapload" either.  Spell check is an asshole.  

So the top of the table looks really nice with all the fancy stuff he's bought and wired up and tra la la.  However, underneath it was pretty redneck.  He had the plywood sitting on top of an old 1960s dining room table, with one piece of 2x4 at either end to make legs.  

Yeah that's stable.  I forgot to draw the plywood sagging on either end and warping in the middle.  I'm all about encouraging my readers to use their imaginations.  You're welcome!

And his electricity!  Oh my stars!  When he was wiring all the lights and signals and stuff, he just ran all the wires to one place, wrapped the wires around each other, and stuffed them into the holes of a power strip!  Holy crap.  I'm pretty sure that's not up to code.  But it's also not the point of this post.

So Hitter's brilliant idea was to build real legs and supports for the table...  so the grandkids won't accidentally knock it over (I'm honestly surprised the air conditioner vent over the table hadn't blown it over.  or that dad's never bumped into it in a drunken stupor and ruined it all) and the plywood will quit sagging and warping.  Hitter knows how to build train tables, we have a layout too.  He gets a bunch of lumber and mostly created the legs at home, he had to wait and do the framework after we got there, and then we loaded them up and headed to the farm this past weekend.  The biggest reason we chose this weekend even though Dad's birthday isn't for a while yet is cuz of the parental unit being on vacation.  We wanted this to be a surprise.  And now my dad has nice legs!

they're even better in real life

I should have mentioned earlier, my mother is an immaculate housekeeper.  At least the parts that show.  I honestly think she vacuumed the living room carpet the very last thing before leaving home, because there were perfect sweeper lines in the carpet with nary a footprint to be found.

("nary"?)

So Bro and SIL and I were joking about how Mom is totally going to know someone was in her house.  I mean before we left, I vacuumed the carpet, mopped the linoleum, washed our sheets and towels, re-cleaned the fridge, and she's still going to be able to sense our presence.  We even brought home the trash we accumulated this weekend!  She's still gonna know.  So rather than try to hide the fact that we were there (plus, seriously, they're gonna notice the new train table legs) I left a note that was all

Dear Mom and Dad,
  We were in your house.  Please don't be mad!  We tried to leave the house as we found it.  I cleaned as well as I am capable, I hope it's enough.  I'm a pretty terrible housekeeper.  We just came here to give dad a birthday present.
Love,
Hitter, Me, and Muppy!

(Muppy is also a terrible housekeeper.  He didn't help clean at all.  In fact, he barfed on the carpet)

(do you like how I guilted them into not being mad because we had such good intentions... I mean who doesn't like a birthday present?!  I stopped short of mentioning the fact that it's my mom's fault I'm a terrible housekeeper) 

How is it I've typed a small novel and still haven't gotten to the point of the title?  And I thought this was going to be a short story.  Well as I said, the framework for the tables had to be built at Mom and Dad's.  Which led to a whole lot of sawdust going into their basement carpet and all over everywhere.  Of course I had to clean that up, it'd be pretty shitty to show up and make a whole birthday present but then leave the mess for the birthday boy to clean up.  Right?  Anyway, the afore-mentioned dining room table that had been the main support of the train table suddenly found itself free from its train prison, but covered in sawdust.  I searched my mom's house high and low for cleaning supplies, and failed miserably.  More text messages, this time between me and SIL:

Me: do you have a dustpan and broom I could borrow?  Mom's house is so clean I can't find any cleaning supplies
SIL: yeah I do, do you need it now?  I think she just vacuums everything
Me: nah, I can wait till we see each other at lunch.  and she vacuums the linoleum too?
SIL: seriously, you know her.  she's nuts.

Which led me me vacuuming the top of a dining room table.  I also vacuumed my socks, while I was wearing them.  It was a weird weekend. 

And why in the hell does vacuum have two u's?  What a stupid word.

To top off the really weird weekend, Hitter is home today.  Guh.  I wonder if I could just sleep all day.  Maybe drink heavily.

Oh and speaking of Hey Fuck Off, there were more revelations of how incredibly stupid and hypocritical my parents are.  For instance: they have a toilet that sometimes sticks in continuous flow mode... I mean wide freaking open, sounds like there's a broken water main.  And it's been like this for YEARS.  I know this because one time three years ago I went up to house-sit for them when they were on vacation and when I showed up after they'd already left, the toilet was running.  It doesn't happen all the time, but some.  Dad is too lazy to bother putting a new flapper on the toilet, but he yells at Mom for using too much water when she's washing dishes.  And he lectures Bro and me about not taking good enough care of our houses and stuff.  This is the same guy who had so much siding missing from the outside of his house that you could see the framing and some of the insulation was missing.  Plus there's that whole electricity thing I mentioned above.  And their garage door is screwed up.  There's no tension spring.  I've asked him two or three times if maybe the thing would work better if he got it fixed.  He tells me it's not broken.  I quit arguing.  Not worth it.  Have I ever told the story about the carbon monoxide leak?!?!?  Fucktards.  I told Hitter on the way home that sometimes I kinda wish I was an orphan.  Dad isn't the only idiot either, as I mentioned above, my mom is an immaculate housekeeper... in the parts that show!  Don't open a closet though...

this was supposed to be an overloaded closet exploding... but I got tired of drawing crap.  See?  I don't even like clutter in my artwork!

 

And even funnier was when Hitter was in the kitchen and busted out laughing... see, my mom is pretty short.  I mean I'm kind of on the short side of normal, and she's shorter than I am.  Dad's no amazon either.  I think he's under 6 feet.  Neither of them can see over the top of the fridge.  So neither of them think twice about how it looks to someone who is 6'4" and can see the top of the fridge and the half dozen mousetraps all in a row up there.  No, they aren't being stored.  They're baited and set.  Because there are mice.  All over the damned house.  But instead of plugging up the holes in the siding and walls and floors and roof and trying to keep the mice out, let's just leave around a couple hundred mousetraps.  

I told Hitter if we ever inherit that house and actually want to move back to the farm, we're leveling the damned thing and starting over.  It'll be cheaper than trying to fix everything that's wrong with it.

You know what?  Now that I think about it, I'm a better housekeeper than she is.  I mean my house may not be quite up to the same immaculate standards in the parts-that-show, but first of all we do a much better job of maintaining stuff, and secondly my storage room is WAY cleaner than hers is.  I think housekeeping skills should be judged by the parts that don't show, not the parts that do.  

I hate people who only care about appearances.  Hey Fuck Off.  

This post is out of control.  I should stop now.  I should have stopped about an hour ago.

It's all part of my Master Plan

The Master Life Plan has kind of taken on a life of its own.  The interesting thing for the first time in my life, when I tell people of a plan I've dreamed up, they've not only listened quite intently and been supportive, they've even had helpful advice and suggestions!  That NEVER happens to me.  Usually the best I can hope for is bewildered silence, but I really get criticism and mocking.

Go me!

It probably also helps that the people I've told do not include my family.  Idiots.  I'm not telling them until it's too late to change.  Heck I may never tell them.  No, seriously, can you divorce your family?  

I already discussed the helpfulness of two Best Friends in a previous post, and then this past week I went out with the ex-husband (or current boyfriend, depending on which version of the story you like) and he was full of even more support and helpful suggestions!  I found out I was pretty wrong about the Kelly Staffing Services company.  I always envisioned them as just placing like data entry and receptionist type people.  Nope, they have an entire scientific division.  And turns out there's an office right here in the city of Hillbilly Hell.  He said they're often looking for people to do just the random lab-rat work... and they get frustrated because the potential employees want to get Nobel-prize-winner's pay for lab-rat work.  Well that's not a problem with me, I really don't need much more pay than to cover the cost of the commute... and potentially any kind of dog-sitting for Muppy.

Plus then if it turns out that the job sucks, it'll just be a temporary position!

 That has potential.  I have a fear of commitment.

I haven't just been thinking either, I've been taking steps.  The first one I did all on my own was this past week I test-drove the commute to the place that's top of my list of potential full-time employers.  That may not seem like much, but I absolutely hate city commutes, so deciding if this one was acceptable was a big deal.  I told Hitter if I have to make that 2-hour drive every day, he's going to have to get me a new car or keep a chiropractor on retainer, because Marvin the Paranoid Car is a bit rough-riding for these hillbilly hell roads.  Other than the bumpity-bumps though, it really wasn't bad.  Yeah it's an hour long, but it's all through the country and no rush-hour traffic.  And I've never been one to shy away from a little driving.

Also Hitter has said he will talk to a guy he works with who has connections at the afore-mentioned top-of-the-list company to see if anyone would be willing to have a little chat with me and share with me what goes on there and what jobs might be available in the future and all that kind of insider info.  And last night Hitter went out with his friend I talked about yesterday and the friend is going to get me hooked up with the... umm... career counselors?... that they use at the corporate nightmare where Hitter and friend work.

Progress is slowly being made.  I still am no closer to knowing what I really want to do, and I'm still struggling with whether or not I really want to give up my free time.  I mean I really like being able to float in my pool all summer long!  And pack up and go visit friends without having to ask for vacation time.  And all that other fun stuff.  Plus I'm really feeling like I'll be abandoning Muppy.  I realize I can't put my life on hold for a dog, but at the same time he's 10 years old and won't be around much longer and has had a pretty rough life so I would really like to be able to make his remaining time happy.  And I'm not sure what I should do with him anyway if I were to go to work full-time.  He's an inside dog, he'd have a heart attack if I tried to leave him outside.  And I'm not likely to get a job that would pay well enough to justify day care every day (seriously, that shit is expensive)

So... that's my story.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but I have also pondered why exactly I sometimes am just crap-happy being a pampered housewife and sometimes I go into this dear-god-I-will-never-be-happy-without-a-job crisis.  I think I've at least mostly figured it out.  It happens to varying degrees almost every year shortly before Christmas, when I am dreading having to spend somewhere between 9 and 12 days living out of a suitcase and start pondering ways to get out of it.  While faking my own kidnapping would be a lot of fun, the responsible approach would be to have something respectable like a job that would require me to stick around here.  I mean the biggest reason the in-laws say they can't come here is because mother-in-law has to be at her job on Christmas day (church organist) so it seems like a job would be a good answer.  And the other is actually kind of related to that.  I start having these feelings that Hitter isn't respecting me and no matter what I do around here, it doesn't get better.  And since he is a corporate-ladder-climbing, power-hungry, money-grubbing dickhead, I figure the best way to get any respect from him would be to also have a job.

Which is actually kind of a terrible reason to get a job.

*sigh*

I think I just babbled with absolutely no point.  In fact, I think I kind of talked myself out of what I am talking myself into.  WTF, me?

So to make a long story short (too late!) my options are, in no particular order:

• get a full-time job, most likely at the place that is top-of-my-list
• get a part-time job
• get a temporary job, either full or part time
• go back to school (I'm still having fantasies about having an apartment at the college across the state, and completely expecting Hitter to NOT go for that)
• be content with being a pampered housewife

and I have been taking steps towards figuring out what I want to do.  So that's good.  And now, I have a headache so I think I'll go curl up on the couch and doze through a movie.

Marriage is one of the leading causes of divorce

I promised a couple posts ago that I would explain my "ex-husband"

Many moons ago, long before Designated Hitter and I were even dating (although we were sleeping together once in a while... don't ask) I met this guy, Opie.  He and I hit it off from day one

except we don't actually have shared jewelry

 

And we were inseparable for the 6 months I lived in that city.  (I moved 12 times in 6 years... no I'm not in the military)  We both have a similar sense of humor, we are both science nerds, and we just like hanging out together.

Opie gives the best back rubs this side of a spa.  Topless back rubs.  But topless back rubs were the absolute most sexual thing we ever did.  I'm kinda thinking I've never even kissed the guy on the mouth.  However, after we were no longer living in the same town, we started spending the night at each other's places when we'd visit... I had a queen size bed and when he was staying with me we'd both sleep in the same bed.  Non-sexual.  Possibly topless, but non-sexual.  One time I even got a pantsless back rub.  I don't know.  So the running joke became that we were husband and wife, because we did lots of things together and even slept in the same bed but we didn't have sex.  Which is like marriage.  Sort of.  Cliche marriage anyway.  Also, my real marriage, but that's another show.

Then Opie moved far far away, and I started dating Designated Hitter.  So the running joke became that we were then divorced.  Which went on for quite a while.  And became hilarious when one of his ex-girlfriends had a friend spy on him and I was over at his house one night and then the ex-girlfriend was all "soooo... who was at your house last night?" and he was all "my ex-wife" and she blew a gasket "YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE MARRIED BEFORE!" and it was funny.

And now I've started calling him my boyfriend to a few people... because I normally only see him when Hitter is out of town.  Not because I'm cheating, but just because I have a lot more free time when the hubby isn't around monopolizing all my me-time.  So, Hitter goes out of town and I go over to my boyfriend's house.  Nice, huh?

This was kind of a terrible description.  It's way oversimplified, and doesn't do our friendship justice at all.  But this is supposed to be a funny blog so whatever.  Also I suck at being serious.  

Randomly unrelated: It seems that the Prom Queen has moved back into Buffalo Bill's house.  Like two weeks ago, and nobody told me.  *sigh*  I have mixed emotions.  My heart is glad they seem to be working things out, but my head just wonders how long it will last this time and if they're really fixing the issues or if they're just ignoring them.  Oh well, not my problem.  I mean kind of my problem, considering they're my family and all, but it's not directly my problem so I should just let it be.

With any luck this may be the end of the family insanity, at least as it relates to blog posts.  Let the hilarity and mayhem commence!  I need more breakfast-sugar.