...and it hurt...a lot...
OK, away from randomness and on to the topic at hand...As many of you know, my Uncle Donny and Aunt Noni (my dad's brother and his wife from Atlanta) are coming to visit for a few days. Their arrival is T-appx. 6 hours and to say the least, this should be an interesting weekend. (See Angsty Entry Number 4 aka 6.6.2005 "The Sources of All Angst"). Frequently my away messages will read save meeeeee. You can help in the campaign to keep Ash from being indicted on murder charges by calling me often so that I may slip away from family actitivities to talk on the phone. Any and all help will be appreciated and revered at a later date.
For anyone who's seen my house when we weren't expecting company, you'll know place of residence is usually a wreck. Both my parents and I are pack rats and we have huge amounts of accumulated stuff that none of us can bear to part with. C'est la vie. However, when we're expecting company my mom goes into cleaning melt down and frantically cleans till the wee hours of the morning (god I wish I was joking about this) to get the house ready for viewing. It's kind of scary, but something that I've gotten used to over the years...
...this morning, she hit a new low. At approximately 7am, my mom burst into my room in something near a panic attack declaring loudly "WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH PILLOWS FOR THEM! GIVE ME YOUR PILLOWS! NOW!!!!!" Had I actually been able to see through my exhausted gaze, I'm guessing her eyes would have been shooting sparks and changed in colour from a nice, calm green to ANGRY BRIGHT RED.
At this point I'm confused, bewildered and more than slightly agitated. Damnit. I love my pillows. So I put up a valiant fight attempting to keep her from ripping them out from my head but, of course, I lose horribly. I weep a little bit as she marches triumphantly out the door with 3 new pillows in hand. I prop my head up on my arm and go back to sleep until 9:30.
Finally, I return to the world of the awake and living, still not entirely convinced the episode of this morning actually happened (seriously...who does that?). After half a cup of coffee, I wander from bedroom to bedroom in the house, looking to see exactly why my mom felt it was necessary to punish me in such and a cruel and unusual way. After inspecting all the bedrooms (including the basement, my room and my parents room), would you like to take a guess at what I found? NOTHING. My pillows were not in any of the places where Donny and Noni could possibly sleep. In fact, several hours later, I still have not found them. At this point I'm just hoping she didn't set them on fire.
Do you see now why I think my mom is trying to kill me?
So, I decide to ask my mom why she had such desperate need for my pillows when a) Donny and Noni would not be arriving for several hours and b) as far as I could tell they were not in any place where a person could possibly sleep. I hear her moving around in the foyer and I go to question her about her actions and the whereabouts of my pillows. When I find her she's staring (with great concentration) at the bust of Alexander the Great that sits on a pedastol by our front door, shifting his position very slightly every few moments. Before I even get a chance to open my mouth, she turns, looks at me with great focus and seriousness and says "If I cock Alexander a little bit to the side, does that make us look more or less pompous?" I muttered something incoherently, promptly turned 'round on my heel and walked back to the kitchen, where I made a bagel
Some of the things I do don't seem half so crazy now, do they?
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