voted off the island.
Today’s earth shattering news – the spoons have started multiplying again and what was 4 spoons, has now become 6. Secondly, there is still a ridiculous amount of laundry here. Finally, and most shocking of all, I’m still on cohorts shit list.
Bestie calls the shit list treatment, being “voted off the island.” She is a people person and lover of all things friendly, fuzzy and warm. AKA: She’s a hugger. I imagine being voted off the island is hard for the huggers of the world. I wouldn’t know anything about that first hand, but I know COVID and social distancing was hard for her. Meanwhile, that six feet apart thing was pretty much me living my best life. Finally, a glare for being in my personal space bubble was appropriate. Which is to say that I have the required stamina to hang out, off the island, while being ignored, pretty much endlessly. Silence, much like cleanliness, is after all, as close to godliness as it comes. Sign me up for a one way ticket off the island!
So today, while I’m out here, you know… off the island. I get asked for something. Confused? Yeah, same here. Apparently it is now socially acceptable to ignore someone until you want something from them. It’s a concept I’m not really familiar with, so I assume the text asking me for permission for something was a trick of some sort. Or, maybe an exercise to test me to see if I understood how this process works. Jokes on you, my determination paired with sarcasm can meet and surpass any passive aggressive Cohort can possibly throw my way. For now, until she can show up at any of the meals I cook, say hello, thank me when her clothes show back up washed, or even acknowledge that calling me a jerk was a little out of line, I’m content to be the “lonely” bad guy.
In stark contrast, Hubby, who could mirror every word I say, would never be even considered for the shit list. I’m honestly convinced that I could just refrain from speaking at all, letting him issue all the unpopular answers to requests, and it would still be me that’s in trouble. I guess we all have a role to play. Hubby was meant to be the good cop in this relationship I guess. I asked him yesterday if there has ever been a time that he felt badly that he wasn’t ever the one getting bitched at? His response, “I can’t figure out why that happens.” Ok, totally the wrong answer, but thanks for playing.
Turns out Lady in Red has a choir concert tomorrow. You know how I know? It was on the school LED board and I happened to notice as I drove by. She reportedly told Hubby all about it and he assured her that he’d be there. Daytime Emmy Nominee chimes in from the back seat, “Girl! You know you can’t tell dad anything!” At least someone has a handle on how this works. Good thing my schedule is so uncluttered. I’ll just sandwich this unexpected event between my self care hour of meditation and that hour of sipping hot tea while someone rubs my feet.
