Ding, Dong, the Bed Is Gone,

The Great Big Bed, the Queen-Sized Bed; Ding, Dong, the Big Old Bed Is Gone!

Yesterday KidThree and I went to visit the parents. The point of the visit was ostensibly to share the dvd from the gym, but it didn't work. We got sound, but no picture. Blast. Dad had just bought a machine to record his videos onto dvd's and had that machine still in the box on the kitchen table. He gestured to it helplessly, "the dvd will play on that!" Next time we visit, he'll have that hooked up and we can watch the dvd.

We had a good visit. KidThree sat out in the family room with Grandpa, while Mom and I went in their bedroom to yak. While we were in there, SisterD called; then we had a good conversation using the speaker phone. She'll be at a medical conference in San Francisco next month and may have a day or at least a few hours free where wandering family members can go visit her.

On the freeway coming home, we ran into a traffic slow-down at an unusual place. After crawling along for a little bit, we noticed a lot of stuff on the freeway. At first glance, it looked like we were headed into lanes that were covered with glass, but there was so much of it--if it were glass, an entire glass truck must have exploded. When we got into the actual debris, I was going slowly enough to be able to look down and see just what it was--it was feathers! The entire freeway was covered with feathers. Feathers floating everywhere, across all four lanes, extending at least a quarter of a mile, if not more. Goodness only knows what did explode there--a truck full of chickens? A pillow factory? Someone or someplace somewhere is missing an awful lot of feathers.

When KidThree and I got back home and pulled into the parking lot, there we saw a big pick-up truck with The Bed in the back. KidOne was coming out of the apartment with a handful of clothing on hangers. I knew she was going to start moving some boxes and things (yesterday was the day her rental became available to her), but had no idea how much stuff she and her boyfriend would get done. They are going to be seriously sore today, especially him, as he just had a cast removed two days ago (he had broken his hand).

My bedroom looks wonderful. There are still piles and piles of stuff, but there is also a big bed-sized space of clear carpet visible, something that hasn't been the case almost since we moved in here. The minute the weather changes, I'm in there to clear it all out. My dream situation is a place for everything and everything in its place, something I've achieved thus far only in the kitchen, but now that KidOne's things are going to be gone, the rest of the apartment will get organized if it knows what's good for it. Thank goodness the weather should be cooling off soon--I want to get the bedrooms fixed up, once and for all. The clutter has been driving me bananas. There shouldn't be any more wandering offspring or other relations needing a place to stay, at least not any time soon, so things should get straightened out and stay that way.

This morning I watch LadyP for three hours, then I'll come home to take a nap until KidThree is due home from school. I woke up just after three this morning, early even for this extreme early bird, and couldn't get back to sleep.

I'm not doing well with the online dating. It was so much easier when I was younger. Of course, then I was in the Navy, with nine men for every one woman, and I was a lot cuter. Still, it wasn't all terrific. The military in the late seventies and early eighties was absolutely awash with drugs and other bad behavior, and yours truly as a Good Catholic Girl didn't fit in at all, something that became apparent to the guys after just a little while. Asking my date at a movie why he just dropped a piece of paper in his soda, "oh, it's acid; you want some?" "No." Me at a party, seeing something in the corner of the room that I just couldn't quite figure out, "what's that?" "Oh, that's hash; want some?" "No." And then telling my date, after he had paid thirty-five cents for my on-base movie ticket, "no, I'm not, you'd pay a prostitute more than thirty-five cents." (He was quite insulted.) A few conversations like that and it got around that I wasn't going to drop my pants just because some cute young sailor dropped a dime and a quarter on me, and that sort left me alone. But there were still plenty of young men who preferred a girl who behaved herself, one of whom I eventually married.

I'm trying to look at things as an observer: Okay, I'm not pretty. But I don't think I'm ugly, either, I'm just ordinary. I have a pleasant, friendly face. No make-up. Hmm. My mother doesn't wear make-up and SisterC and SisterD don't wear make-up, but SisterL does. Hmm, again. Nope. I don't want a date badly enough to put on make-up. My face will stay naked. And if I am ugly, I don't want to know it.

I am overweight; I'd like to take off twenty-five pounds. Maybe when the weather cools off. The weight drops off easiest when I'm active and over the summer, I hide from anything remotely resembling activity. For now, the extra padding is staying.

Too busy with KidThree? That situation isn't going to change any time soon, but I'm no busier than most other mothers. It's just that I gave up my job outside the home and now spend the same amount of time working inside the home, or taking KidThree hither and yon. Nope, KidThree isn't going anywhere, and she has priority over my love life (or lack thereof).

Lack of money? That is off-putting. I wouldn't like it in a man, at least not without a darned good reason, but then, I do have a darned good reason. If a man had the same sort of catastrophic event in his family, I would certainly expect and support his spending every dime to take care of his child. Nope, I can't fix the lack of money. It will get better in October, but even then I won't be flush with discretionary income, just solvent and doing better little by little. Drat.

I just don't know. At least I'm used to being on my own and enjoy my own company, most of the time, anyway. I think what I'll do is keep at this a little while longer and then re-evaluate at the end of my paid-up time. And I have a library card and a blockbuster membership, both of which get me outside of this apartment and this town and this state. Thank goodness imaginations are free.

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