The following took place on Sunday, Dec. 18th. The day after I tested positive for covid. Not surprisingly, I measured everything that happened prior to Christmas in relation to that positive test.
|I came across this recently. It's a poem Ed wrote about me when he was about 10. I love this and I meant to post it on my happy birthday to me post. Not sure that I ever jumped across a lake, but otherwise he nailed it.|
Tank set up the garland that I ordered from Home Depot. It was sitting in a giant box on the island while I was quarantined. When he stood outside my bedroom door and asked me what he could do, I told him to set up the garland on the mantle. "It's in a box on the island."
Instead of setting it up, he went to his room and did nothing. Eventually Coach asked me if I could give Tank a job. I learned that he hadn't done the garland, so I called from my sick bed, "TANK, GARLAND!"
He wanted to be done quickly, so instead of listening he asked me where the box was.
Then he asked which mantle.
"WE ONLY HAVE ONE MANTLE."
This exchange went on longer than I care to admit and ended with me shouting at him while he said things like I'M JUST ASKING - but he was asking the exact things I'd just said. He was too busy trying to race off to do the thing half-ass to tune in.
Good thing having sudden high blood pressure isn't problematic for a covid patient.
Coach said Tank initially put the rectangular shaped garland on the mantle and walked away, thinking that was it. The folded up piece required some unfolding in order to stretch it across the mantle. Duh.
Meanwhile, Mini and Curly went to the mall. They returned things for me and picked up a few gifts that I ordered for in-store pick up.
Ed made a new garlic chicken, parmesan potatoes recipe for me as I was contemplating making it for Coach's family's Friday party, but I wanted to do a dry run.
While double masked, I went downstairs with all of my dirty dishes Sunday evening. I was immediately annoyed - not by the mess, because standard. The recessed lights in the family room's vaulted ceiling were weird, like bright white. Like give-me-a-headache colored.
|The girls and I did Christmas|
cookies on the 22nd.
Me: WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LIGHTS?
Reg: OH, YEAH, DAD CHANGED OUT ALL OF THE LIGHTBULBS IN HERE BECAUSE ONE WASN'T WORKING. (this would require a ladder and a trip to the hardware store because we don't have spares)
Me: WHAT? WHEN?
I'd been upstairs for like 36 hours.
Coach had to run to his work to do some paperwork and wasn't home. I went to hide in the study to do some deep breathing inside my masks, away from my people.
It dawned on me. There's a remote for the recessed lights that we never use. Tank must've bumped it on the mantle when he was racing through his garland setup chore. Reg acted like he'd seen Coach change out the lightbulbs, when in fact - he knew nothing. He switched to fake-news mode because . . .
Her mouth is a little misshapen -
maybe she was using a
Voice to get her people to do stuff.
A) he wanted to set me off,
B) he wanted to feel like he knew some important information,
C) he dreamt that Dad changed the lightbulbs and he could no longer decide between reality and his dream, or
D) the weird light vibe threw him off so much that he was confused.
A bit later, Coach called me out of hiding because he'd found the light remote. He wanted me to vote on which color the family room lights were supposed to be.
If this proves nothing else, it should demonstrate that THEY CAN DO NOTHING WITHOUT ME.
I stood across the room and told him which light was our 'normal'.
While the lights flashed through a weird yellow, to the institutional bright white, to the normal, Mini was explaining the awful time she'd had at the mall. The store never texted her to say that her package was wrapped, so she stood there waiting at the gift wrap counter forEVER. I would've asked if my package was ready after too much time had passed, but there's a learning curve here when people try to be me. She's a young me-in-training. There are lessons to be learned, people.
Meanwhile, Reg walked over to the kitchen table, picked up a brand new basketball, and gasped: OH. HEY, WHO'S IS THIS?
Reg's evolution b-ball was stolen at LA Fitness in the fall. It's a $79 ball. He's been using Tank's old one. Reg isn't one to ask for stuff, except for new b-ball shoes and then he wants ALL OF THE SHOES. I just realized that day that a new ball would make the perfect gift. Surprise. Or in this case, surprise ruined.
I needed to remove myself from the kitchen, double masked and all, because who knows if the steam pouring out of my ears might contaminate someone with covid. I was so annoyed. My great idea BLOWN. *sigh*
I blame covid for my inability to be fast enough on my feet to come up with a good cover story for the suddenly appearing b-ball on the table. Instead of creating some fib that he would never believe about why I'd spend a crazy amount on a ball for a godson, I grabbed the ball and pounded away while hollering GIRLS, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE HIS GIFT ON THE KITCHEN TABLE?
There are no really good answers here. Looking back, I have no idea how we made it to Christmas morning without me losing my mind. Truth be told, Santa didn't arrive until late morning on Christmas day and the late-tobe-placed-under-the-tree gifts weren't opened until noon. But damn if we didn't host an amazing party on Dec. 25th for my side of the family.
There's more Christmas bits to share, but the goings-on on Dec. 18th are quite telling, me thinks - so I thought I'd start there. Anyone else ruin a surprise or avoid a chore or have someone fail at a delegated task or have ALL of their lightbulbs changed out (or not) or make too many desserts to count?
Oh, and Happy New Year! Did anyone else fall asleep on the couch by 11 pm?