Friday, May 15, 2009

On Our Own

Shana has gone for the weekend. While we have hopes that she will return, Gwynyth and I are doing our best to maintain some semblance of normalcy and dignity.
Of course, neither of those traits is dominant in our genetic makeup.
Last night Gwynyth stayed up past her bedtime watching a vampire movie with me, if Twilight can be considered a vampire movie.
I picked up Underworld: Rise of the Lycans for later this weekend just to make sure we have vampires totally covered.
I asked Gwynyth what she'd like me to cook for dinner last night and she replied that I should "cook" something from somewhere that has decent ice cream. She is well aware that my cooking is different than Shana's cooking in that my cooking involves yelling into a metal-shrouded microphone from within my car.
Before this evening's activities begin, Gwynyth will clean her room. We discussed this while I made her lunch this morning. Last night she "made her lunch" but I discovered only a single bag of Cheetos in her lunch bag this morning.
Whenever Shana leaves town, we get a little crazy.
Without her calming influence we tend to take on projects which are well past our abilities to complete and make messes which are outside our abilities to clean without separate, complicated projects which are again well past our abilities to complete.
In less than 24 hours, everything has been removed from under the sink and the water no longer works in the kitchen.
Or the bathroom on that side of the house.
Or (I suspect) the sprinkler system.
But I have everything under control.
If one defines "under control" as "holy crap what do I do what do I do?". Which is a perfectly reasonable definition as far as I'm concerned.
Side note: My particular disorder, which involves a compulsive need to hand-wash whenever I've touched something like plumbing under the sink, when combined with Adult Attention Deficit Disorder and a non-functional kitchen sink, can result in some delightfully slapstick moments of flailing and running which Gwynyth is desperately trying to capture using the Apple iPhoto camera.
It is safe to assume that by Sunday afternoon we will likely be entirely feral creatures, hissing and snapping at each other, living in fear of the light and unable to communicate with each other or non-modified humans in any method which does not primarily consist of grunting and pointing.
We have been through this, but never without a support structure of friends willing to leave food on the front porch and call to work our communication skills.
Shana, if you are reading this, um, everything's under control. Situation normal.
Uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you.
How are you?

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