I took a brief vacation from DD over the Easter weekend. I popped in now and again, but didn’t make any updates. Initially, I’d intended to just give myself a breather, but after Easter luncheon/dinner/whatever-the-heck-you-call-a-meal-at-2:00-in-the-afternoon-on-a-holiday I found I needed some time to mull things over as well.
Over all, it was a good weekend. I purchased eight 4-inch pots of hardy pansies for my office’s window boxes. I have to say, I’ve got the nattiest looking office anywhere in Timbuktu at the moment. I paid a bunch of bills, and now have officially paid off over half of the loan I had to take out for my little Prius.
Saturday afternoon, armed with my camera, my microwave, and thirty-five Peeps, I went Peep nuking. I’m still sorting out the best pictures, cropping them, and otherwise preparing them for what will be a backdated April 10th entry. Of course, the only way to put a nuked Peep out of its misery is to eat the remains. I fear that I was only able to properly dispose of five of the peeps that way, before I hit sugar overload and was forced to dispose of the remaining carcasses in the trashcan. I still have over half the Peeps I started with though, so I can foresee another Peep-fest sometime in the distant future. It has to be the distant future; right now I couldn’t eat a Peep if my life depended on it.
Monday I slept late and then ran some errands. A new group of stores had opened on the site of an old, run-down strip mall near me, and I decided to check it out on the way home. I love Coldwater Creek’s catalogue, and they had opened a shop in this renovated mall, so I ducked in there first. Well, I can love their stuff all I want, but I absolutely refuse to pay $50 for a pair of sale jeans. I poked around and tried stuff on, but walked out empty-handed. I did the same at Talbot’s, where a pair of shorts I looked at cost just under $200. I get the feeling I won’t be shopping at these establishments too often.
What? You say I skipped over Sunday? [looks at paragraphs proceeding] Yeah, OK, you caught me. I was both right and wrong about Sunday when I mused in a previous entry that my sisters wanted an early dinner because they’d made other plans for the evening. There were ulterior motives for the timing, but it wasn’t because the Sisters had elsewheres to be.
We got to the Younger Sister’s townhouse, and I noticed a honking big pick-up truck parked outside my sister’s garage door. I had to laugh – my sisters have this running thing about having disasters on holidays. I noticed that the license plate frame on the truck advertised a plumbing company not too far from where I live, which meant the guy had to drive a fair distance to get to my sisters. I wasn’t surprised. I figured there weren’t a lot of plumbers for hire on Easter afternoon.
I made some sort of snickering aside to the Socialist as we walked up the front walkway to her door. He knocked, and we stood out in the rain for a few short moments until Younger Sister opened the door. She hurried us in and then delivered this monologue in a hushed tone under her breath as we entered. I’ve got a surprise for you. I’ve been dating this guy for three months now and I invited him to dinner, so he’s here in the kitchen. She managed to get this out in approximately 6 picoseconds, and still have it mostly intelligible. Most impressive.
Now it turns out that Mr. Plumber is a nice guy, divorced with three sons (if I got that right) who Y.S. found through a web dating service. Fine by me. He’s got a good sense of humor, and he’ll straight out tell you what he’s thinking, which is rather refreshing when you’re dealing with my family. He’s got my sympathy, but he seems to adore Y.S. so more power to the both of them. What irks me is that I made a point of telling both my sisters in advance about The Socialist, months before they ever met him. And apparently Elder Sister knew what was going on all along. I am evidently not part of the loop.
Even that wouldn’t particularly bother me except Elder Sister later got on her soap box and preached to me about how hurt she was that I hadn’t contacted her about my neck injury, and how she could almost cry about me not keeping in touch about that. Keep in mind that alcohol lubricated the announcement, but I feel rather certain that regardless of how unsteady she was on her soapbox, she nonetheless was preaching from the heart.
Keep in mind that I DID call Y.S., who never called me back about it. Apparently Y.S. called E.S and told her though, since E.S. had left a phone message for me some weeks ago inquiring about my neck. I mentioned in a previous diary entry how this indicated that E.S. was only particularly interested in me if I had some cool medical issue going.
So the sum of things seems to be that I am required to keep in touch with the Sisters (but only at their convenience) while they have no particular responsibility to reciprocate. This has my nose out of joint, and it’s probably more out of joint than the situation warrants. Still, I’ve been annoyed for months that they don’t return my calls, but obviously have time to call each other. For the E.S. to start in on the histrionics in front of some guy I’ve just met, turning her head and dabbing her eyes while announcing that she could “just cry” that I hadn’t contacted her about my pinched nerves was just too much.
It’s probably best if I just keep on thinking it over with my mouth shut. Whatever my problem is, I’ll get out of my snit eventually.