Eat, Drink, and Be Scary

I need to talk about something very uncomfortable.  I’m not sure why it should be that way.  It just is.  And I think I just need to talk about it today because I feel as if I might just burst from sadness.  Some of it needs to be let out.

Usually I write about ADHD.  Today I’m writing about alcoholism.  This is a disease that has impacted a great many people in my life.  In some cases, it has shown the strength and bravery that people can possess – that there is light after darkness.  In others, it has been and continues to be catastrophic.

I just got back from a beach trip with family.  We’ve had such trips before, with the understanding that alcoholism would also be joining the group.  It’s been present, but somehow we’ve managed to flow around it – knowing it was there but being able to exist with it by way of boundaries and the peace that can only come once you’ve really thought about things.  This time was different.  So different.  And it caught me off guard because I really had thought I had found the peace.

The affected person – and I’m not naming names or identifying which family member it is – has gotten so much worse.  They look like an Auschwitz survivor.  Their skin tone is just wrong – their arms are black somehow.  Their limbs are thinner than my 8 year old’s.  I don’t think this person weighs 90 pounds and they are 5’5″.  They are covered in bleeding sores, as their skin is constantly inflamed – no doubt from the body’s inability to process all the alcohol.  They barely eat.  Most of their calories come by way of cocktails.  People stare.

While that is disturbing enough, their behavior has steadily deteriorated.  They’ve always been challenging to live with, most probably affected by borderline personality disorder.   Now it’s worse.  They are verbally abusive, punishing waitstaff to the extent that their family begs them to stop and apologizes profusely.  No one wants to dine with this person.  And due to their erratic behavior, we spent most dinners eating in, not wanting to subject strangers to this punishment.

I’m lucky.  I don’t live day to day with this.  But its impact on the person that does is breaking my heart.  Their spark is gone, their humor.  The entirety of their days revolves around alcoholism and the ravages it has wrought.  Their world is so damn small and it shouldn’t be.  The vacation was not a vacation.  It was a wake of sorts.

And I’m still sad.

 

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Bell Scurv(y)

I suppose things are settling down, folks are settling in.  We have all survived birthday season, with Stella bringing up the rear a couple of days ago.  I have an 8 year old, y’all.  How the hell did THAT happen?

I’m almost afraid to type this and put it out in the universe, but school seems to be going well.  I’ve only gotten one call that I didn’t ask for when Stella sympathy-puked at school and messed her dress up.  Despite a bit of a rough beginning, Stella’s grades are back up.  Why were they down, you say?  YouTube.  My kid is obsessed with watching other kids play games on YouTube.  So, she would rush through her homework, doing a rather shitty  job, so she could watch YouTube.  And the attitude!  Holy moly, YouTube ought to be renamed YouRude.  She acts like an asshole after watching that stuff.  No matter.  She lost computer privileges during the week.  Problem solved.  Her grades and attitude are much improved, and this is like the best bargaining chip ever.

The Dude is the Dude.  He seems to be doing well, although don’t even get me started on the homework he has to deal with, plus the expectations on such little people.  His grades seem solid, although I have no idea what that’s based on.  But he seems happy and each day brings a new obsession.   Yesterday it was scurvy.  We had to learn all about scurvy and what causes it and what happens when you get it and what is citrus and do pirates really get scurvy.  These things take on lives of their own.

And things are busy.  School, work, homework, Girl Scouts, trying to keep the house from looking like it should be condemned.  Will and I got a date night this past weekend.  We tried a new Asian-fusion place I’d been dying to go to.  The food was ok – showed promise – but the cocktails were something else.  I got something to do with a crane, and it came in a ceramic Buddha.  Buddha had a flower where his butt should be (and where the drink resided) and I drank it thought a hole in his sternum.  A little strange, but it worked.  Will got something called a Samurai Assassin.  It was served in a tiki cup and made a hurricane or Long Island iced tea seem like Kool-Aid.  Regardless, it was nice to go somewhere new.  We’ve been in a bit of a rut.

Anyway, may the second half of your week be quick and painless!

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Rotten to the Scores

Today is my birthday. I’m trying to be graceful about it. But I gotta tell you it’s been hard. Louisiana is having a heat wave from hell. I mean that. Surely this is what Hell’s ambient temperature must be.

To make it even better, I spent 2 hours in carpool. Our fan-damn-tastic school board has a penchant for random mid-week early dismissals. And since the kids are in 2 different schools on the same schedule (and my friend that normally grabs Stella is a teacher herself and had to man dismissal at her own school, hence wasn’t able to help), I got to leave my office early to sit in Felix’s line for 45 minutes (in the heat) so I could be toward the front of his carpool line such that I could then tear across town to get Stella from her carpool. 2 hours, y’all. “Hey Laura! What did you do for your birthday?” “Carpool, of course.”

THEN, since we were already out of work and school early and the kids were due a med check and flu shots, we did that. I’d be depressed about all that if I let myself think about it.

But one thought did jump in my head. Y’all remember when your kids were babies and had to get shots? It always felt as if someone were eviscerating me. Hell, once or twice I even wondered if the anti-vaccers were right. No, not really. Now? Shut up, Stella. Be quiet, Felix. Just take the shot. That’s better.

So I’m 45. 2.25 scores. XLV. What is it about the numbers ending in 5 and 0 that feels different? I don’t feel 45. Ok. My eyes do. They’ve gone to shit this year. I’m still working out the whole readers thing. But otherwise, I still feel like a goofy, often clueless kid. I just now have to examine my outfit to make sure I’m not age-inappropriate. And sometimes I just don’t care.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could live in Snapchat land with all those wonderful line-erasing filters?

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Sock and Roll

We’ve been settling in.  It takes longer than you’d think.  For starters, it’s the logistics of 2 kids in 2 schools on the same schedule.  It’s working for the most part – largely thanks to a wonderful friend of mine who is helping with Stella – but the mornings are pretty rough on Will.  It took months and several reschedulings to get a 504 meeting for Felix, and I still don’t have a signed copy for my records.  I still have to have a formal meeting for Stella.  Have I ever told y’all how much I loathe meetings?

Stella started off a bit rocky.  Third grade is kind of a big damn deal, as the kids start rotating classrooms.  That, and the kids are expected to be more independent with keeping up with their assignments.  That’s pretty terrifying for me, and her grades took a bit of a hit.  They’re coming back up now, but largely because she’s lost all computer privileges during the week.  The kid is obsessed with YouTube.  She would rush through her homework to get at the computer.  She spends hours watching other kids do stuff like play video games.  She doesn’t want to play them herself, mind you, she just wants to watch.   I don’t get it.  But she now can’t watch it during the school week.  She’s like a crackhead, having DTs and letting me know I’m making her life miserable.  Whatever.

I’m almost afraid to type this out, but Felix seems to be doing really well.  Just last week, he came home with a slip of paper saying that because he “maintained excellent behavior all week,” he could wear crazy socks.  That’s kind of a silly reward, but we were extremely proud and excited.  Unfortunately it’s hard to find crazy socks for a dude (girls are easy).  Will gladly went to Walmart and found the most obnoxious things he could find, and I have since ordered some from Amazon for next time – hopefully there will be one. Oh, and the socks match his self-inflicted haircut. Luckily, school pictures were taken less than a week later. Awesome, no?

We’re gearing up for birthday season.  Will’s is tomorrow and Stella’s is coming up (along with other extended family’s birthdays).  I put my foot down and refused to have a party for her this year.  The stress, the money, the lack of RSVPs making me hate the human race….Just not worth it.  She’s made lots of requests for things she wants and things to do, and I think she’ll end up having a great time of it.  I think she’s realizing you can celebrate without a party.

It’s busy.  But so far it’s good.  I’m almost afraid to relax.

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Week in the Knees

Sorry. Time has just gotten away from me. We’ve been dealing with the whole getting back into a routine thing. We are officially in our third week -second full week – of the new school year. It’s been a mixed bag. I’ve experienced extreme frustration trying to get 504 plans up and running for both kids – especially Felix. We’re running the gauntlet of two carpools and if it weren’t for my friend helping us in the afternoon, I can say most emphatically that we’d be screwed.

Stella seems to be doing great, although they spent the first week or so doing diagnostic testing to see, in part, how they’ll do during the real testing later. I’m eye-rolling here. Testing, testing, testing. All during the first week of school.

All that testing has meant that Felix has had way more homework for kindergarten than his sister has had for third grade. What’s more, he’s already had more homework so far this year than Stella did her entire kindergarten year. And she’s in a magnet school. WTF? Despite that, he has actually had a much smoother beginning of his kindergarten year that she did. As a matter of fact, until today all was well. All greens on his behavior chart. Today he got purple and lost his whopping 15 minutes of recess. Yes, he normally gets 15 – that’s a one and a five – minutes of recess during his entire school day.

Can you imagine? Sweet kiddos only given 15 minutes to be kids. Heartbreaking.

I’m not even gonna talk about that, although it makes me so angry and incredulous I feel as if my eyes are bleeding and my blood pressure rises to 235/890. I’m pissed that they took those precious few minutes away due to typical ADHD behavior. He got dinged for not paying attention, not listening to instructions the first time, and talking.

Y’all, I have definite notions for what I want in his 504 plan. One of those ideas is to NOT punish him with recess removal for behavior associated with ADHD that is beyond his control. I will happily work with the school to find other consequences. Now, if he acts like an asshole and pushes a kid or starts dropping the F Bomb, that’s different. But then again, I have to actually get that 504 plan. I suppose I should be patient. I’ve only been asking for it since June.

Ibuprofen: Currently a major food group

I’ve joined many of those Facebook support pages for ADHD, parenting ADHD, etc. They can bring comfort. They can bring crazy in that obsessive way. What if I miss a post that’s useful, or a post by a person who just needs to know they’re not alone, or a post by someone needing to know the answer to a question that I can actually answer? I also hear stuff that breaks my heart and makes me go to the store and buy a fancy card and some stickers and write a long note after folding paper cranes to stick inside before mailing it all to a poor kid in California whose mother posted tearfully that he was about to turn 10 but had no friends and no one in his class was coming to his party and would anyone be interested in mailing him a birthday card? And yes, there’s a special page for this exact type of thing, to help make birthdays special for kids who really need it. THAT’S a damn rabbit hole. Tip: go buy some Hallmark stock, yeah?

Sorry. Off tangent. Anyway, on these pages I see stories like mine. Stories of kids being punished for being who and what they are – for things that are absolutely beyond their control and for conditions that aren’t necessarily horrible things. All that comes flooding back to me on days like today, when my son comes home with a purple and lost his recess.

And on these same pages mentioned above, there will be trolls – the trolls who say ADHD isn’t real, that it’s bad parenting, and how being in classrooms with our kids has a negative impact on their own little darlings. To these troglodytes, I want to say that taking recess away from a 5 year old ADHD kid for not paying attention is the same thing as saying to a TB patient, “Don’t mind all that smog, go run that 10 K.” Or to the person with IBS, “Just hold it.” Or to the mute person, “Speak up! I can’t hear you.” Or to the person who goes into anaphylactic shock after a bee sting “Go on and harvest that honey. You have an epi-pen, right?” You get my drift.

Sorry, y’all. I know I’ve been very one-note lately. One day I’ll go back to being an amusing smart-ass. I hope.

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Zoo’s On First?

Dear people who were visiting the swamp area at the New Orleans Zoo Sunday afternoon,

I’m the woman in the black dress you saw trying to yank a screaming, wailing, flailing girl into the ladies room.    I know you all saw me.  I saw the looks on your faces: astonishment, horror, unease (Is this woman trying to kidnap or otherwise harm this child?), revulsion.  I know I looked a sight.  I was hot, sweaty, disheveled, angry, scared, and quite frankly not sure what in the hell to do.  My daughter, who is normally one of the most beautiful children I know and has a brain to match it, was making faces straight out of the Exorcist, yelling “help, help,” and acting as if someone were trying to burn all of her precious stuffed animals in a furnace.

Here’s what happened – what led up to the spectacle you had the misfortune of witnessing.  We were playing on Monkey Hill.  All was right with the world, other than the fact that it was about 600 degrees outside.  All of the sudden, my daughter said she had to pee NOW.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute, no?   I left my son with my husband and we set off to find the closest bathroom, which wasn’t all that close.  I was aware that time was of the essence.  When we arrived at the appropriate building (in the swamp exhibit), my daughter wanted to go to the bathroom inside the nice building with the cafe and gift shop.  The only problem was that wasn’t where the doors to the bathroom were.  They were on the exterior of the building.  For whatever reason, that flipped the switch.

I suppose I should interject here that periodically my kid has a complete phobia of insects.  Or she loves them and finds them fascinating.  There’s no in-between.  Anyway, we’re currently in the phobia phase of the cycle.  It’s kind of stupid when you’re doing lots of things outside.  You know, where the bugs live.  Anyway, somewhere, somehow, she became convinced that bugs could travel the water pipes and come pouring out of the faucet.    Ergo, bathrooms – particularly those with doors opening to the outside – are obviously going to be infested.

She stopped walking.  I told her it was fine, that there would be no bugs, that she needed to go.  She told me she didn’t go.  I told her she was being ridiculous and that we were going to the bathroom now.  I tried logic to no avail.   That’s when the noise and chaos ensued.

I finally just managed to yank her screaming to the door.  When it opened and she saw clean white tile and felt the AC, she calmed immediately.  Until she got to the commode, that is, but hopefully y’all missed all that.  The whole thing was ugly.  So ugly.  And loud.  I sometimes forget that everything with my daughter is so much more, including her volume.  The whole thing scared the hell out of me.  She’s not some 3 or 4 year old I can just pick up and carry away.  She’s a large, powerful kid.  And the whole thing just caught me so off guard.  I couldn’t tell you the last time she had some kind of godawful public outburst to that degree.

I probably handled it badly.  I’m sure out there somewhere there’s some supernanny or child whisperer that could have calmed her immediately with  soothing words and had her gliding to the bathroom door.  That wasn’t me, or not at that moment.  I really do try, though.  I read the books.  I’ve joined the Facebook pages and support groups. I know what one is supposed to do.  Only that doesn’t always work.

Before the storm

This ADHD thing.  I talk about it a lot.  I have to or I’ll explode.  It sounds so stupid and simple.  I almost feel guilty about yammering about it so much.  It could be worse.  I know that.  But y’all, it’s hard.  And it’s constant.  And it wears you down, especially now when a new school is starting and everyone is just trying to settle in and find their way.  I’m sitting here in knots because I need to have 2 different 504 meetings at 2 different schools and I asked for both of these meetings months ago and I work and how do you schedule all this stuff?

Both of my kids have this diagnosis, as well as my husband.  You have to believe me when I say it’s very lonely much of the time.  My primary obsession focus is my kids.  It just kind of has to be.  And because of my husband’s own issues, he just can’t always help.  Hell, sometimes he adds to the problems if I’m honest.  It’s overwhelming.  The meds, the appointments, having to  make sure everything is laid out to make things as simple as possible (because something has to be simple, right?)

And please please don’t get me wrong.  I love all of these people with all my heart.  And the ADHD can sometimes be fascinating and fun.  They can create things in ways I never could.  The only thing I can create is dinner.  My daughter’s art is amazing.  My husband builds stuff like our foam machine which we take to schools and parties to make kids happy.  My son is a force, with his machines and other gimcrackery that he’s always constructing, all the while freestyling the Predator Rap.

But there are times, like now, when I feel like I’m barely holding it together.  I bought myself a silly cheap bracelet on Amazon.  It’s to remind me that I am enough.  I have to be.

So I’m sorry about what you saw.  It was not our finest moment.  And thanks for not contacting security to report me for attempted kidnapping.  That would have been pretty awkward.    And if you know someone like me – a parent of a kid who’s different – be patient, be kind, and try not to judge.  This shit is harder than it looks sometimes.

Thanks.

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Count Rushmore

The beginning of the school year is approaching fast.  Too fast.  I’m not ready.

I’m already disappointed in Felix’s new school.  When you have a kid who needs some extra care/support, everyone loves to tell you to “be proactive.”  How can you be proactive when everyone else is inactive?  Seriously, y’all.  I called lots of time.  A note was left on his paperwork when I registered him back in June.  “Felix has ADHD and mom would like him placed with a teacher that has experience with this if possible.  Also wants a 504 plan meeting before school starts.”  I finally got the principal on the phone very briefly Friday morning.  I was blown off.  Meeting isn’t possible and “all the teachers are good.”  Sure.  Whatevs.  I’ll be sure to remind you of this if things go badly.  I tried.

But as much as I bitch here and to my parents and Will, I am trying my best to put a positive spin on this situation.  Felix still bitches about the Evil Villain, so talking about a new school far away from her is an easy sell.  He actually seems excited.  Stella is coming around also, although I’m still getting gripes about “boring stupid homework” and kids “shushing” her.

See? We’re trying this positive thing.

Her drama.  Does anyone else out there have a 7-8 year old that’s already shelling out teenager-sized drama?  It’s awful.  If she’s in a mood and  I correct her for anything at all – and patient corrections vs mom-is-losing-her-shit corrections – I often get snarky and obnoxious comments like “Well you just hate me then, don’t you?  I’m so stupid.”  I hate that nonsense.  It pisses me off.  Other than taking stuff away from her, I have no clue how to correct this.  And yes, we’ve had tons of discussions about “positive self talk rather than negative self talk.”  Maybe it’s the ADHD amping things up.  Probably.  Who knows.

But we’re reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and that’s making me so  happy even though Stella is being a butt about it.  Charlie is about to go into the factory now, so hopefully she’ll come around.  Who doesn’t love an Oompa Loompa??

Wish me luck, y’all.  And cross your fingers and toes that I don’t go batshit on the new teachers.

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Girls Just Want to Have Fungus

Y’all know I’m mad about a Christmas Story. That’s a fantastic movie. One of the best ever. If you don’t like it just close this post and walk away.

While Ralphie is the star of the show, my personal fav is the Old Man. His world-weary expressions are ones that all parents are familiar with. I personally can relate to his hatred for his neighbor’s dogs, although the chihuahuas next door only bark and have never stolen my turkey dinner.

The best part of his character is his Old Man language. He curses the car, the furnace, the lack of glue. Naddafinga, mundane noodle. It’s amazing. It’s close enough to actual speech to be real, to have meaning. You know when he says “naddafinga” that he means “don’t fuck with me.”

Felix knows this language. He’s been utilizing it to insult his sister in the most spectacular fashion. She’s been called a “wingus farthead.” I’ve heard him holler “stank cuffbark” at her. My favorite, though, is “dark fungus.”

I know as parents we’re supposed to be neutral and to get onto our little people when they’re being disrespectful or using unkind words and such parental shit. But y’all, hearing my son snarling “You dark fungus” is one of the funnier things I’ve heard in a while.

What do y’all do when you’re supposed to be pissed off but can’t stop giggling???

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Fairwell

I must admit I’ve had my head in the sand.  I’ve been avoiding stuff.  Stuff around the house.  Stuff at work.  This stuff.  School stuff.  That’s the root of it all, the school stuff.  I’ve reached that point where it’s become this dull nagging nugget of panic, sadness, rage, and guilt that I’m not dealing with it.

This summer has been great – the best so far as a parent.  I’ve said that already.  It really  hit me that it’s been like a break from dealing with ADHD.  No struggles with homework and teasing, no stressing about if meds wear off and all hell breaks loose. I sent my kids to camp most weeks, the others they were with Oui Oui or myself.  Sure, there was jackassery.   They’re kids.  Kids = jackassery.  But only once all summer (and that was last week) was I approached by a camp person  to tell me about an incident.  Usually teachers on counselors say it like that.  This camp person had a legit beef but managed to convey it respectfully and in a way that didn’t leave me with that sense of panic in my belly wondering “oh shit what if we get kicked out of this camp?”

I got to be a mom and my kids got to be kids.  And that was it.  And that was amazing.  I’m absolutely gutted that it’s over.

We went to a huge fair in Mississippi this past weekend.  My mom is in town to visit and we went up there to see family and stay a while.  It was hot.  It was crowded.  I love the fair.  I hate the fair.  I love the idea of the fair more than the actual experience.  But I’m glad we went.  Stella and I spent most of Monday riding carnival rides.  You wanna know something?  As you get older, ladies, your boobs want to go to the sides on the Tilt-a-Whirl.  It’s like upper-torso lady-spreading.   I had never noticed that before.

On the way home from the fair yesterday, I realized it was time for me to just get on with shit.  After unpacking, I girded  my loins, grabbed both school supply lists, and went to WalMart.

Maybe this is a southern thing, but hands up who hates school supply shopping with a hatred normally reserved for murderous dictators?  The sheer amount of shit you have to buy with the precise nit-picking detail is ridiculous.  I left WalMart with blood boiling, $150 poorer, and still not with everything my kids need.  Thank glob for Amazon, because I’m sorry, I’m not going to Office Depot just to buy 3 large Pink Pearl erasers when I could just as easily have sent up a 5 pack of medium Pink Pearl erasers.  And there was not one orange plastic pocket folder with the brads to be had, so I found something sort of off-red and I’m labeling it “orangish” and it’s going to have to be good.  School supply shopping used to be fun and magical.  Now it’s an expensive blood-pressure-raising, bank account emptying nightmare.  Lunchboxes and backpacks are the only fun parts left.

I still have details to work out. I don’t know who will watch the Dude while I do Girl Scouts.  My amazing friend offered to pick Stella up and then meet me right after so that I don’t have to worry about 2 afternoon carpools (and can I tell you I almost cried that someone offered to help?).  I can’t get anyone at Felix’s new school to talk to me about teacher selection for him, and apparently their brand new guidance counselor hasn’t even started yet so there’s no way a 504 plan will be in place before school starts.   I had asked to meet with Stella’s teachers before the beginning of the year, and I’ve heard nothing.  I have a job and 2 kids (now at 2 different schools) and I can’t do this last-minute bullshit.   I just hate this, y’all.  I want to cry and pummel someone at the same time.

If any of y’all wins the big jackpot and wants to sponsor my kids in private school, PM me, yes?  School starts next week, so there’s still some time….

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A Kong Day’s Journey Into Night

I’m not going to lie: it’s been a rough few days. We’re one of those modern households with a cut cord, meaning we do everything via the internet. Without the net to power our Roku and devices, there is no Spongebob, no Dinotrux, no Supernatural (Team Dean/Cass). After working wonderfully all day, late Thursday afternoon our internet died.

I was cooking dinner when I first noticed something wrong: an AT&T tech wandering across our yard looking up, obviously tracing a line. The kids were at Oui Oui’s for a few days – both a blessing and a curse, as Stella would have known the exact second service ended. We could have wrasseled that AT&T guy to the ground and made him fix us, tout de suite. As such, we didn’t notice for about an hour after he left our neighbor’s house (the Desperate Housewife). We thought it may be one of those service blinks, so I went to bed early, figuring all would be right in the morning. Nope.

Will did an online chat with AT&T the next day. We got the usual canned spiel about how if it was an inside problem we would be responsible for at minimum a $90 call and yada yada yada oh, and what was our phone number so we could talk about AT&T services. Nope. Just the services we already have and pay for that aren’t working, thanks. How about a Monday evening service call – their first available?

Oh. Hell. No.

What y’all need to understand is that this is July in Louisiana. We were facing what the local weather folks were calling “the hottest weekend of the year,” with a heat advisory issued Friday morning for the entire weekend. I have 2 kids and no cable/satellite. No cartoons. No YouTube. Glob help me. I started looking at hotels. I really did. At least there one can have internet and a pool and breakfast….

Poor Will ventured out early Saturday to cut our grass which is when he discovered the root of our problem: our cable had been cut. In the back corner of our backyard (Desperate Housewife’s side) is a utility pole. Our cable comes down the side of this pole. It was a clean cut, roughly head-height. The damn Gorilla had cut our line and run inside to hide like a bitch, leaving 2 branches on the ground where they still sit.

Well, here’s your problem, ma’am.

Explanation: the Desperate Housewife is a cute teeny little thing. About 2 years ago, this huge, hulking hairy dude started coming around. I’ve never heard him say complete words, only monosyllables. He’s like bloody King Kong next to Fay Wray. They ultimately got hitched. See? Desperate. I told you. Anyway, their backyard had gotten rather Heart of Darkness (so has ours – I’ll not judge on that). We think overgrown tree branches broke their line. He frantically went to cutting to fix or alleviate the issue. He cut our line and ran inside. AT&T came out, fixed their problem by running a patch cable across their yard. Their problem was solved. Ours was just beginning.

Will feels certain there’s no way he cut a cable and didn’t realize it. He could have at least come over and told us – apologized. We could have at least gotten a jump on getting it fixed vs finding out ourselves on a Saturday when AT&T weekend staffing is short.

At least it’s Sunday and I can go to work tomorrow where there is blessed internet. The togetherness and jackassery have become more than I can bear.

And if you have any good asshole neighbor pranks? Let me know. As if their 3 shitty chihuahuas weren’t enough, I’m now out for blood. They will pay.

I did get to hang out with Ursula at a showing of the Little Mermaid Friday night. Inspiration! Those poor unfortunate souls…

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