...I came within half an inch of wringing that idiot's neck. In fact, I was SO pissed I called City Girl and TOLD her why I was pissed so that I wouldn't forget. She has tactfully chosen not to REMIND me but let me reiterate...I was pissed. I remembered.This past weekend was full...really, really full. A golf tournament member-guest. The neighbor across the street's heart attack. A tonsillectomy. Father's Day. A wedding I didn't make. Junior tennis circuit. A party or two. And to top it all off...IT'S HOT AS HELL HERE. So no matter what you do or where you go...you are soaking, wringing wet at least 50% of the time. It's amazing how hot a car can get in 10 minutes.
So. Tonsils Thursday. Basketball practice Thursday. The Big Boy couldn't make the surgery because after all...it's just tonsils. And OH YEAH...he has to take off Friday to play in the golf tournament. I understand. So my mother went with us just in case we had any issues. We came home, the patient went to bed and I hovered. It's what Moms do. Except we have some very dear friends who moved to Denver a couple of years ago and every summer when they come home we have a night where everyone goes to the Mexican restaurant and has a REALLY good time. And this was the night. But the patient was happy and sleeping comfortably and The Nice Kid/Babysitter was texting her heart out so...I left them here and went to have dinner with my friends. Lovely time. Came home, gave The Not Nice Kid her pain medication (for the first time in her life) and she freaked out. Danced on the ceiling. Kept me up until the wee hours, being weird. Won't be dosing with codeine anytime soon.
Friday? The super-neighbor across the street had a heart attack. He had a stroke six weeks ago and a motorcycle wreck ten days ago at which point they found some sort of irregular heartbeat which lead them to find two blocked arteries so now he's walking around with two stints. And Friday, when it was only 96 degrees, he decided to go mow the lawn and the next thing we knew...we were in the emergency room. All afternoon. He's only 75 years old so...wanna climb some mountains? I got home in time to iron a shirt and show up for the golf party at the country club. A lovely time was had by all.
Saturday the golf tournament continued. Yes, it was hot. They rode in golf carts 'neath hundred-year-old oak trees while a young-something in shorts brought them beer. One of the top golf courses in the country. On the river, so there is a breeze.
Do you know what Frogg Toggs are? FT's are clothing and accessories designed for sportsmen. Keep-you-warm for winter fishing, keep-you-cold for summer golfer/tennis/etc. Saturday? The Big Boy took every FT in this house, excepting one towel. He rode around in a golf cart on the pre-described course, while The Nice Kid played tennis on clay courts. It was, and I quote, 103 degrees on those courts and she was moving the entire time. I was sitting, but it wasn't much cooler and there wasn't a shade tree for 20 miles...but GUESS WHO HAD THE FROGG TOGGS? Yep. We nearly died. We THOUGHT we were dying. It was HOT.
And when it was finally over I came home, to the air conditioning. The Big Boy came home, took a shower and then went to take a nap. Long about then I remembered...we were invited to dinner tonight. At the home of one of the most stylish people I know and OH YEAH. I had volunteered to make the bread. So I started making bread but I had messed up the starter and I had to chunk the first batch and start a second one and the OVEN IS ON during all this debacle and I made two batches of yeast bread and one big skillet of cornbread and since THE OVEN WAS ON it was HOT AS HELL in the kitchen. Just like it had been HOT AS HELL on the tennis courts for four hours.
We were supposed to be at dinner in 45 minutes. I had no shower, no ironed clothes and the bread was still in the oven. It would have been nice to have had some makeup but...shower got first priority, only...I COULDN'T GET IN THE SHOWER UNTIL THE BREAD CAME OUT OF THE OVEN. And the clock was ticking and I WAS HOT and...
...The Big Boy got up from his nap, took a shower, put on clean clothes and walked down the steps and said, "Will you sew on this button for me?"
He still has no idea what the hell hit him. I blew up. I didn't sort of blow up...I exploded. I was so hot and so tired and so dirty and so unready and so harried and so...sick of his shit...I exploded. And his dumb ass was standing there, holding his shorts for the next day, looking at me like I was insane.
While I looked at him the exact same way. I think I'll write a book. Something about opposing sexes and planets or such.
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Almost...
Never mind that I was in a nice, cool, air-conditioned kitchen. When dinner was ready, but he wasn't, I snapped. Apologized later, but you know, MY hard work was being thwarted! We can't have that!