That said, here's my weekend:
Saturday: 8a Even though it's the weekend, I set the clock so that Eric and I would be ready when his former brother-in-law stopped by to pick us up to help him move. He showed up at 9:30a. They didn't have the truck yet. We get to his place and I watch Daredevil and hang out for a while. Then his wife comes home and I hang with her and their baby. She has me feed him. We don't get started until late afternoon. Of course, they have to stop constantly. He to sit and think for half an hour at a time about where things are going to go. Then he stops because of his back. This is fine, except, he did no planning and *NO PACKING* before we got there! The baby is screaming, the bratty 12-year-old is not asked to do much at all. Eric and I don't get home until midnight. I miss my Saturday ritual of TV with Eric in the evenings. I'm getting increasingly annoyed, but trying to be helpful.
Towards evening, the guy's wife was trying to draw things to a close. We get home close to midnight. Things still aren't done. They have the truck for three days and need to get the stuff packed and down to Chicago before their time runs out.
Sunday: 9:15a We get treated to breakfast and I'm hopeful that we can get things done before too late. I can come home, read, watch 60 minutes and prepare for my day here, right? Wrong. I was getting ordered here and there until after 9p. I know Eric was grateful to feel useful and get out of the house. He also found it interesting to spend time with a baby. He doesn't have much experience with kids, but managed to feed him just fine. He did not get the "cute voice" thing. He was just concerned and kind. It was nice to watch. I, however, could have done without helping them move. And their attitude was like: "Oh, thanks. And here's when we might need you again". If I asked someone who wasn't my blood relation to clean my toilet without *serious* extenuiating circumstances, I would be ashamed of myself.
Anyway. We got home. There was nothing on TV and I was too wired to read. I could not sleep until 1a. I am now here finishing up the day with Dumbass alone, trying to keep as quiet as possible so she won't bellow like a braying buffalo. Earlier, just because I've been so quiet (trying hard to stay in my happy place), she said: "Look the name of this school -- it's called Needmore! Isn't that funny?". No. It's not. I forgive her. But I want to gouge my *own* eyes out with a spork to escape the banality. I just wanted quiet today. What can you do?
From now on, one must meet one of the following criteria in order to have me help you move:
1. You must be crazy in love with me. The reason this doesn't need to be the other way around is because I love everyone, even Dumbass. I know I'm loveable, but it doesn't seem that kind is mean for me yet.
2. You must have similar DNA. Family. 'Nuf said.
3. You must be vaslittlecrow who's very request for help was humble and polite. I seriously wish that I had known of your need before Eric volunteered us to help these people. I'm just figuring you would at least have let us know if the packing wasn't even *started*.
4. You must be Eric.
I'm tired. My back feels like it did before I got my tits lopped off. I'm almost done with the day and am very surprized I made it without a rude utterance. I'm good. Except I'm sad I won't be able to celebrate with theperfumer as she enters *my* decade. You're in good company, girl! Happy B-day! Please allow me to take you out sometime later, eh? I know of a great place downtown.
Well. I'm going. Too tired to write anymore. I've been writing this all day between processing orders and all. Have a happy Monday. I'm going to see if I can rent "The Devil's Rejects" and vicariously enjoy some sadism...