Hi. Welcome to Vacation Hell Week at the OK Corral. It may get grisly and I suppose I should give these series of posts some kind of violence-related rating; but so far, it's not come down to swinging from chandeliers and calls to the cops yet.
Now, I guess I love my BF in a weird sort of way. Haven't quite pinpointed just why, but as he's been around for the last ten years and he hasn't been thrown out yet, something must be there, right?
I knew his vacation was this week, but I don't think I quite prepared for it enough.
Sunday was pretty calm. I came home from work and my house was clean and the dogs had had baths. I guess BF was gearing up for Vacation Hell Week and was trying to score a few brownie points before it hit.
But, Monday. Monday, Monday, Monday.
I woke up with my feet swollen for some ungodly reason and had to sit pretty much in front of the computer (dang the luck) all day long. Daughter comes out of the bedroom and I'm telling her about my feet and BF wakes up.
Being as this was the first day of Vacation Hell Week, I didn't think ahead of time to close his door so he wouldn't wake up. You can't have the festivities start too soon, now can you?
It starts out fine. He asks me about my feet, tells me I'm getting older, and goes out to cut the grass.
So far, not too bad.
But, dinnertime, I'm about had it with these freaking swollen feet and hobbling around, and I'm getting hungry.
"You want a sub?" he calls from the bedroom.
See, he lives in the bedroom (that's where the TV is) and I live in the living room (that's where the computer is) and never the 'twain shall meet.
So, I said sure and went to get some money to give him to get the dogs some food, other odds and ends, and THE SUB.
Now, I'm not sure how much the sub is, so I ask him, and he tells me $3 ought to cover it. I said, "Are you sure?" and he said, "Yes. If not, I have some quarters."
I'd like to see his quarter stash. Whenever he wants me to feel sorry for him and give him more money, he always says, "It's okay. I have quarters." I picture his trunk being filled to the brim with quarters upon quarters.
So, I said okay, and went back to working on a brand new website for Pump Up Your Book Promotion PR, and being as I have a new set of authors going out on tour next week, I was hurrying and not paying a bit of attention to BF when he got back.
I look up from the computer and yell to him in the bedroom, "Where's my sub?"
He says, and this is a direct quote, "It's in the fridge."
So, I go back to my website designing and notice there's a bag of marshmallow peanuts sitting in front of me that I gave him money to get me from the store. I'm in my marshmallow peanut craving stage.
Of course, I'm fully engrossed in this website designing and, not thinking, I open the bag and start munching down.
I look up about an hour later and BF has gone on to play poker, so I get up to get my sub.
Only, I can't find it.
I opened the fridge and the only thing closely resembling to my sub was this half-eaten sub full of mayo and some kind of hot peppers. Now, mayo sends my stomach to convulsing and I won't go near a hot pepper, so this obviously wasn't mine, or if it was, BF was going to have hell to pay because he knows damn well by now what I get on my sub.
I wanted to cry. I paid for dinner and dinner was nowhere to be found. I'm still hobbling around with these freaking swollen feet and, now, I have nothing to eat on top of that.
I fix myself a sandwich and sit down to have a good lengthy sorry-for-myself cry.
BF comes home a few hours later and, by that time, I'm ready for him.
"Where's my sub?????"
He smiles and says, "I didn't think you wanted one."
"I specifically asked you how much they were and gave you money for it!"
"Oh. I thought that was for my sub. You're kidding, right?"
So, this is what the first day of Vacation Hell Day was like.
It didn't take too long before fire was coming out of my ears when BF dashed back to the sub shop and I could finally have my dinner.
So, this was Vacation Hell Week Day #1.
Stay tuned for Day #2 of Vacation Hell Week tomorrow. If BF lives long enough.
Tags: Over the Hill Boomer Chick, baby boomers, Dorothy Thompson, book promotion