“Yes Dear.”

“Hi.  When you get up, you really need to not leave Frisco in the bedroom.  He just tried to vomit on the bed and I flung him across the room.”

“Baby, he’s a sneaky bastard.”

“I know.  That’s why I said TRY.”

“Well maybe if my alarm went off so I got up at the right time - ”

“No.  Nonono.  I called YOU.  If you want to get bitchy, you have to call me back later.”

“…well, that hardly seems fair!”

I grasped for any sort of clever singsong saying to prove my point.  This is how we make rules, right?  Find a rhyming scheme and drill it home? 

From now on, whomever dialed, gets to be riled.

Of course, I didn’t think of that at 4:50am.  My mind was a little full of sleep and vomit escape paths.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Watcha doing?”

“Peeing.”

“Where are you?”

“In the bathroom.”

“…”

“…”

“That’s…fortunate?”

“I thought so.”

A monster truck painted orange and black passes…
 
Me:  Ugh.
 
ST:  Yeah.
 
Me:  I bet he fucks like a jackhammer.  And it’s either really painful or really boring.
 
ST:  I was wondering why he had his truck painted like a fishing lure.

Uttered by ST while fixing things around my house…

“If I had known you had a DeWalt, I’d have gotten serious much sooner!…Oh wait.  It’s only 12-volt.  Never mind.”

“Have you started to dye it?”
 
“Um, no.” 
“It just doesn’t seem as noticeable these days.”
 
I struggle for an answer then realize the cause, “It’s because I’m back at the sanctuary.”
 
“The sun.  That would do it.”
 
“Sorry.”
 
“That’s OK.  I have a picture in my mind’s eye.”
 
“You are the only man I know who wants to imagine more gray hair on a woman.”
 
“I can cause a bit more too.  Just give me time.”

“Something you said Saturday night confused me.”
 
“Oh?”
 
“You mentioned how I am different from other women because I do not demand 10,001 commitments.  And you made it sounds like a compliment.”
 
“Maybe demand is the wrong word.  I have been trapped before.”
 
“Trapped?”
 
“Yeah, like when one day it’s going to the movies and the next she’s asking what I want for our 50^th wedding anniversary.  What we want to name the second kid.”
 
“I see.  Because I had been thinking yesterday.  I was thinking that maybe…I…didn’t want to…date…(cough)…other people.  And I was thinking that you would like that.  But then I remembered what you said and I wasn’t sure anymore.”
 
“I would like that.  I would like that a lot.  I just don’t feel I have a right to ask that because I can’t offer anything more right now.”  *
 
“But you’re never going to be able offer anything more.  This is it.”
 
“True.”
 
“So…it seems either we can make it work the way things are or we can’t.”
 
“A fair assessment.  It would be nice to know you only want to spend time with me.  It would be a relief that you were saving your time for me.”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“….”
 
“…I’m trying to say something.  The commitmentphobe in me is holding back.”
 
“I figured.  I heard the cough.”  **
 
“So I think…maybe that’s what I want to do.”
 
“I’ve got a warm fuzzy feeling right now.”
 
“Are you sure that’s not a pit in your stomach?”
 
“No.  It’s definitely higher.”
 
“Good.”
 
*He works insane hours, and shift to boot.  He has mentioned several times that he thinks it might lighten up after this or that, but finally on Saturday I cut through the bullshit and got him to admit he loves his job so much there will always be something.
 
**I get this throat tickle when talking about relationships.  I call it my commitment phobic cough.  I also flap my hands around like a penguin attempting flight; you just can’t see it over the phone.

Him:  So the trail by the rapids is right here.
Me:  A third of a mile??  (Thinking:  this date is going to be over in ten minutes!)
Him:  That’s the shortest.
Me:  When I said I wouldn’t be up for much?  I was thinking less than five miles.
Him:  Oh.
 
(Thank goodness we only did about three so I didn’t wimp out.)

Later…

Him:  I’m never going live that down, am I?
Me:  Nope.  We HAVE to get married now.  And have a big family so the grandkids can gather round to hear the story of how Grandpa turned down Grandma’s offer to get him a hooker.

(Also?  I informed this gentleman that my bark is worse than my bite.  Evidently I am a fifth grade gym teacher now…) 

Me:  Oh Lord.  You would pimp me for a microphone wouldn’t you?
 
TG:  Of course not!  It would have to be something much more valuable.
 
Me:  Like what?
 
TG:  …An airplane?  Yeah, I’d pimp you for no less than airplane.
 
Me:  Sigh.
 
TG:  Well what do you want to be pimped for?
 
Me:  Nothing!
 
TG:  OK baby.  I won’t pimp you for anything.

Me:  Yeah right.  I’m so getting pimped for an airplane…

This is an email conversation between TG and myself two Fridays ago, when we had some of the worst rain/flooding ever seen in this area.  I’m pretty sure he knew it would show up here at some point.  Almost every time we see each other these days he asks at least once, “Are you blogging this?”  (Sometimes he wants the answer to yes because he thinks we’ve hit upon something incredibly funny and “us”.  Sometimes he grabs my hand, kisses it, and says, “bless you” when the answer is no.)

It took me two hours to get home that day and my condo was in pretty bad shape, but the roof was supposedly fixed yesterday.  I’ll believe it after the next rain.

It is mainly work that is causing me to not have any new words.  Hopefully I’ll get some time this weekend.

To:  TG
From: Jessica
 
DUDE.  It is RAINING in the HALLWAY and my neighbor’s CUBICLE.  I am
on the first floor of a 2-story building.  I also feel the need to YELL because this morning’s MEETING was PAINFUL.  Poor Coworker stopped by to VENT and all I could do was laugh
because I HAVE GIVEN UP.

Perhaps Jack Bauer could show up and fix everything.  Or kill me.

To:  Jessica
From: TG
 
Damn Florida and their need to build sprawling flat-roof buildings.
 
I only hope your condo’s roof is faring better.
 
Jack Bauer does not sleep. He lurks. And waits
 
To:  TG
From: Jessica
 
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  I HAD NOT THOUGHT OF MY CONDO WHY DID YOU SAY CONDO???????????

I need:

a drink
House
another drink
Jack Bauer
some fun-yuns

To:  Jessica
From: TG
 
Sorry. I figured that’d be the FIRST thing that occurred to you.
 
Now, as always, I feel like the fucking asshole.
 
Then again, House would’ve brought up the condo too….
 
To:  TG
From: Jessica
 
Aw, you don’t really feel like an asshole, do you?  Because you
shouldn’t.  I should be kissing your ass that I know someone who will
remind me of important things that really should not fall into my “out
of sight, out of mind” category.

Which is kinda everything.  I so suck at being an adult.

House would have informed me of all the killer mold that is festering
in my ceiling, waiting to kill me.  He would have described it in
detail until I either 1) slapped him or 2) cried.  Either is probably
foreplay.

To:  Jessica
From: TG
 
“probably” foreplay? HA.
 
The storm is RIGHT. OVERHEAD. Nice. Loud. Clouds go boom.