So, when last we spoke nearly a year ago, I had died.
Allow me to catch you up on my life since then: I accepted a new job, blah, blah, blah, I resigned from said new job. Trust me, there is sooooo much contained in the "blah, blah, blah," that I could--and would--tell you about, but Danny would kill me.
That means I'm a stay-at-home-mom again, and I totally suck at it, just like I knew I would. Add sahm-ing to my list of non-talents. There's no glitter-glue around here, not one piece of macaroni has been glued on anything, and the number of nature walks/picnics we've enjoyed? Zero.
Somehow, I've managed to keep everyone alive, though. Delaney is easy because she's at college; Emerson learned how to work the microwave; and Danny has become quite familiar with the Burger King drive-thru.
My mother is still living at the nursing home, and every once in awhile I get a phone call informing me that she's making out with another Resident. She's on the clock, though. There is absolutely nothing physically wrong with her, so her demise is nowhere in sight. Normally, that would be a good thing. However, my father is getting out of prison in 4-1/2 years, and I'm not living with both of them again. I tried that once, and it resulted in my marrying at 18 to get away from them.
Unfortunately, if I have to live with both of them again, someone's getting a pillow over the face. I've actually thought this out: My father, even at 81, could, I'm sure, overpower me; so, it looks like my mother will have to be the one to go. Sorry, Mom, but you kind of deserve it for making me wear shoes with alligators on them on the first day of fourth grade.
So, what, you may ask, do I do all day?
Nothing. Abso-freakin-lutely nothing. Except Facebook. I need rehab for that one.
In fact, when Danny left this morning, he looked at me sitting on the couch and holding the computer, and said, "What are you going to do today?"
I eyed up the couch and the computer and said, "You're pretty much looking at it."
He then informed me, in his best supportive husband voice, "Well, just so you know, this place is starting to look like a frat house."
That's encouraging to me: better a frat house than a crack house anyday.