Me and mine sat down and had a discussion last night. You knew it was coming after my last post, didn’t ya? Actually, it was more my doing the talking and them listening. My son attempted to get in his two cents worth, but my husband was quick to run interference. I think he knew what kind of day it was when I talked to him on his break and told him to bring me home a pack of smokes, a two-liter of Pepsi, and the biggest, candy bar he could find. This discussion could’ve been prevented even after the morning I had, if only my son had come home, done what I told him to do, and did it willingly with a smile. Instead he feels the need to constantly test me, and unfortunately for him lost this round when it came to the ‘battle of wills’.
One thing that chafes my behind more than anything is people that do things at their own leisure and convenience with no thought for anyone or anything else: People that arrive late to pick you up, for functions, work, etc. People that procrastinate at doing something that needs to be done: Paying bills, making arrangements, fixing things that need to be repaired so you can use them, etc. These things make me boiling mad. This is what I’m surrounded by every, damn day.
My husband and son are masters at procrastinating. They jokingly refer to each other as SlapNuts Jr. and Sr. (long story I won’t get into right now). I think of them more as Lotsa-Lazy and Lil-Lazy. Neither have the least bit worry about something getting done, because they know if they don’t do it I will. Why? Because I could be called, ‘Kinda-OCD’. I’ll pick up the slack, because if I don’t it’ll make me bonkers.
Lotsa-Lazy was raised on acreage outside of the city that didn’t have an indoor bathroom until 1980. I shit you not! While I was stretched out on the floor in my parents, air-conditioned home, watching new, cable tv back then, my husband was sweating his ass off in what I consider a hovel, bathing in a large, basin in front of the woodstove, and going poo in an outhouse. I share this picture with you so that you can fully understand why he sees proper plumbing, heat and air, as a luxury, and not a given. I DO NOT! Anything less I consider primitive.
Lil-Lazy’s only excuse is that he’s the child of divorced parents that have shared custody, has spent a great deal of time living in the city with his (by my standards) well-to-do father, and has a mother, Kinda-OCD, who over-compensates at times for the absence that was forced upon her. In short, he’s a product of his environment too. I ask you though, “Is this my problem?”
I still don’t know whether anything I said made a permanent dent or was simply just enabling me a moment of grandeur, but for the time being I felt a bit like a princess as my husband laid me back, pulled my legs up onto the couch, covered me up, handed me the remote, and told me to relax…he would handle it. Within minutes my son had the dogs fed, wood sitting by the fireplace, and was cleaning the bathroom. My husband brought me in a Bloody Mary, and started on the dishes. “Steel Magnolia’s” was on one of the cable channels and was half over, so I cried throughout the rest of it while sipping on my drink.
I sit here now, not so naive to think that today will be the beginning of great change, but rather that I won this fight. Maybe the first of many, but at least I won it. I let them know I was in it, I had a voice, and I wouldn’t back down. I let them know me and my opinion counts. I got the dishes done and the bathroom cleaned!