Hot Weather Whine--fleas, flees and unpaid bills
Do not come to visit us. We have fleas--zillions of fleas. These aren't your ordinary circus-oriented fleas. They're not interested in performing. No, this may be a flea cabal. I'm convinced they want us out of the house ASAP. I feel like we live in a Dickensian hovel. We've powdered and sprayed and it's getting better but still. And I swear that some of us are considered better eating spots than others...
Kid 2's feet seem to be particularly succulent--soft, pink and juicy. You must need a reservation to get a spot on his feet. Kid 1 is out of the house a lot so there's not much word of mouth on her relative edible-ness (edilibility? surely a word only a cannibal uses?). I seem pretty immune. My feet draw them but I must be Burger King compared to Kid 2's L'Auberge or Kid 2's Applebee's.
I want them out. Now, to the flees...Our lodger has fled and not due to the fleas. I knew she was an escapee from Dysfunction Junction. She immediately told me that she'd grown up in a single parent family so she was accustomed to living with a single mom. Hmmm....I thought...that's not good. Ironically, she reminded me of myself when I was in my early twenties--few life skills, full of "wonderment" and unsure of her place in the world---never mind mysterious territory like the kitchen. When she moved in, she had a good solid job with good benefits and then suddenly she was working at soap shop with her friend. This too was sobering news to me...She ate her meals in her room-on paper plates with plastic forks. The concept of a garbage disposal was foreign to her. But she was sweet and upbeat and she got along great with the kids. All three of them had the same taste in music and reality television. I marveled--she was 28 going on 18. She informed me in a text that she was leaving. I wasn't surprised. I remembered myself way back when--if I had a problem, I simply bailed. I was terrified of asking anyone for help and I trusted no one. I hope she gets past it all eventually, but 28 is pretty late to start the healing process.
Next week is the end of the month. I hadn't realized this until Kid 2 pointed this out. He is finished with his daily 9:00 a.m. to noon writing program at the Windward School on the 30th and he is counting the minutes. Today, his parting words to his shrink were "Well, I can write a sentence". (I'm sure the shrink's question was "is that program you're attending doing any good?") With every fiber of my being I wanted to retort "well, that's more than you could do last month!" I could spend the next few days worrying about whether or not this method will truly teach him or not, but I have no time. I need to scramble together a plan to pay Con Edison and United Water now that there's no rent from the lodger coming in August 1.
Kid 2's feet seem to be particularly succulent--soft, pink and juicy. You must need a reservation to get a spot on his feet. Kid 1 is out of the house a lot so there's not much word of mouth on her relative edible-ness (edilibility? surely a word only a cannibal uses?). I seem pretty immune. My feet draw them but I must be Burger King compared to Kid 2's L'Auberge or Kid 2's Applebee's.
I want them out. Now, to the flees...Our lodger has fled and not due to the fleas. I knew she was an escapee from Dysfunction Junction. She immediately told me that she'd grown up in a single parent family so she was accustomed to living with a single mom. Hmmm....I thought...that's not good. Ironically, she reminded me of myself when I was in my early twenties--few life skills, full of "wonderment" and unsure of her place in the world---never mind mysterious territory like the kitchen. When she moved in, she had a good solid job with good benefits and then suddenly she was working at soap shop with her friend. This too was sobering news to me...She ate her meals in her room-on paper plates with plastic forks. The concept of a garbage disposal was foreign to her. But she was sweet and upbeat and she got along great with the kids. All three of them had the same taste in music and reality television. I marveled--she was 28 going on 18. She informed me in a text that she was leaving. I wasn't surprised. I remembered myself way back when--if I had a problem, I simply bailed. I was terrified of asking anyone for help and I trusted no one. I hope she gets past it all eventually, but 28 is pretty late to start the healing process.
Next week is the end of the month. I hadn't realized this until Kid 2 pointed this out. He is finished with his daily 9:00 a.m. to noon writing program at the Windward School on the 30th and he is counting the minutes. Today, his parting words to his shrink were "Well, I can write a sentence". (I'm sure the shrink's question was "is that program you're attending doing any good?") With every fiber of my being I wanted to retort "well, that's more than you could do last month!" I could spend the next few days worrying about whether or not this method will truly teach him or not, but I have no time. I need to scramble together a plan to pay Con Edison and United Water now that there's no rent from the lodger coming in August 1.
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