The final straw
My Ikea futon is very confused. It thinks it is supposed to permanently be a bed as we leave it in its outstretched state whether or not we have visitors. So it was giving me a very hard time as I was trying to take it out of its position akimbo and back in sofa mode. Then I realised the mattress wasn't attached and it was upside down -- bottom side up. Although my futon never leaves its recline, it can't make itself do that. But SIL, who visited last, can.
SIL, Zebedee, Dougal and Dylan were here last month for the festival. Three years running they come for the festival. Each time SIL makes out like she's coming to catch up with us. No, you want free lodging in a city where prices rise ridiculously in the month of August. This year she didn't even ask, that's how it's become.
First thing Dylan said when he arrived was that it smelled. Thanks, you bastard, I guess I didn't really need to tidy up then. I forgave that as he's the youngest, but if that were me, I would have gotten pulled into the other room, spanked until I screamed bloody murder, then emerged to given a heartfelt, though sniffly apology under the watchful eye of the manners police that was my father.
When I arrived home the next day, Dougal greeted me with, "You have mice." Perplexed with his little game, I echoed, "Mice?" to only be told of their location: "Mice behind your refrigerator." Anyone else, that might of hurt their feelings. Me, I thought, so fucking what? Who doesn't have mice? Z, Doog and Dyl live in an idyll without mice, a figment of their mother's imagination. Everywhere has mice! No-one is immune. In a world of 6 billion people, there are probably 7 times that number of mice. In Scotland. The sooner those kids, and all of you, learn this, the less stress you will have about mice in your house. It's not a case of whether mice are in your house but if they want you to meet them or not. Personally, I'm happy for those buggers to be behind the fridge and not out with their bubonic plague-having selves hanging round in the open, having a ham sandwich and watching 'Tribe' with Bruce Parry with me on Tuesday nights.
Boy says SIL puts the kids up to all this. Maybe, but I was able to let it go, forgetting all about it. But then she turned the fucking mattress over on my futon. Well, if my smelly, vermin-ridden house, with its dirty-cos-my-convelescening-dog-slept-on-it mattress isn't good enough for Mrs Clean, then feel free to find another place. I think Martin (that is Lawrence) said it best in his "seminal" television show of the same name, "Get to steppin'."
SIL, Zebedee, Dougal and Dylan were here last month for the festival. Three years running they come for the festival. Each time SIL makes out like she's coming to catch up with us. No, you want free lodging in a city where prices rise ridiculously in the month of August. This year she didn't even ask, that's how it's become.
First thing Dylan said when he arrived was that it smelled. Thanks, you bastard, I guess I didn't really need to tidy up then. I forgave that as he's the youngest, but if that were me, I would have gotten pulled into the other room, spanked until I screamed bloody murder, then emerged to given a heartfelt, though sniffly apology under the watchful eye of the manners police that was my father.
When I arrived home the next day, Dougal greeted me with, "You have mice." Perplexed with his little game, I echoed, "Mice?" to only be told of their location: "Mice behind your refrigerator." Anyone else, that might of hurt their feelings. Me, I thought, so fucking what? Who doesn't have mice? Z, Doog and Dyl live in an idyll without mice, a figment of their mother's imagination. Everywhere has mice! No-one is immune. In a world of 6 billion people, there are probably 7 times that number of mice. In Scotland. The sooner those kids, and all of you, learn this, the less stress you will have about mice in your house. It's not a case of whether mice are in your house but if they want you to meet them or not. Personally, I'm happy for those buggers to be behind the fridge and not out with their bubonic plague-having selves hanging round in the open, having a ham sandwich and watching 'Tribe' with Bruce Parry with me on Tuesday nights.
Boy says SIL puts the kids up to all this. Maybe, but I was able to let it go, forgetting all about it. But then she turned the fucking mattress over on my futon. Well, if my smelly, vermin-ridden house, with its dirty-cos-my-convelescening-dog-slept-on-it mattress isn't good enough for Mrs Clean, then feel free to find another place. I think Martin (that is Lawrence) said it best in his "seminal" television show of the same name, "Get to steppin'."
posted by Autumn at 12.9.07
3 Comments:
Wow. That was a really good rant. I loved the ending "Get ta steppin!!" My rants are incoherent at best. I think it is because I don't tell stories or jokes well. You however are a very good story teller. I always get lost in the middle of my rants and they end up off topic. I start with something simple like why I hate Hummers and end with the dangers of overpopulation. Sort of related but not really.
You go girl!! I however am glad that the manners police (aka Dad) did teach you all the somewhat heavy-handed etiquette that most children today don't seem to have and the parents are unwilling to teach.
By the way, how's the dog doing? And, has the futon learned to become a sofa?
Family, for peace, you gotta love 'em. We do the same with the Browns sometimes.
Man, do I sound crazy...
Family can do that to you.
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