Last night my little sister, being an unending font of wisdom, had left her window open all day so she turned up the heat to warm up the upstairs. I was already in bed, sleeping happily in my refreshingly cool bedroom, when she decided to do this. I woke up drenched in sweat with nary a blanket left on my bed after kicking them to the floor, convinced I would have to fight my way through tumbleweeds and cacti to get to the thermostat to restore breathing air that didn't dry up my poor nostrils. After turning the heat back down, I went back to my sweltering bed that reminded me of the hottest days of summer. I spent the next hour thinking about the lakes that we went to all summer, and wondering if I should pack my beach bag and head out to cool off. Ah, the lakes! What a great time that was. We had too much fun there. If we weren't trying to avoid those consummating their love in the water, we were having seaweed wars. Past the buoys, there grows the most fabulous, stinky, thick, luxurious field of seaweed. The trick is to get a massive amount, sneak up behind your prey, and dump the mass onto their head. You had to be on constant high alert or you risked being buried in a heap of that stuff. One weekend the place was swarming with whippersnappers who were way too mature to enjoy the natural games the lake offered. The girls, looking better in their bikinis than I have in a long time, were playing Frisbee while the boys tossed a football nearby, all trying to act like they didn't know the others were there. We were amassing piles of seaweed to destroy each other with and laughing like a rabid pack of hyenas when successful. Or picking seaweed out of our hair when unsuccessful. I'm sure all the whippersnappers were having a good time, but I'm even more sure that we had a better time. Nothing insures a great time more than the air thick with flying seaweed.
What would have been my 9 year wedding anniversary just passed. Depending on who you ask, the date would be either the 3rd or the 4th of November. It is actually the 3rd, but my ex, another font of unending wisdom, when filing for separation, put the date as the 4th. I called him to ask what our wedding anniversary is and he said, "The 4th!" as if he was 100% sure of the answer. I was very kind in my verbal abuse when I told him it is the 3rd. The man kept getting my birthday wrong when we were first dating. His ex's birthday was just a few weeks after mine so he kept switching the 2. One day, while he was sleeping, I took a permanent marker and wrote the month and day on one thigh and the year on the other. He found it very funny and has never forgotten my birthday since. I told him he was lucky I wasn't there to write our wedding anniversary on his legs. I can't think of my marriage as a failure because he and I are still friends, still meet up, and he still thinks I'm the best there is in this world. I swear I only keep that man around for egotistical reasons. He cannot believe that men are not lined up outside my door waiting to date me, and thinks I only wear a swimsuit around him to tease him, not to swim in. Never mind that we are swimming and he is the only one who would think me in a swimsuit is alluring, it is the only reason that makes sense to him. The only reason he filed for separation is because he wanted to buy some land and didn't want the hassle of having me have to sign the papers. He also doesn't want to leave me without insurance, so he isn't filing for divorce for that reason too. He and I understand that when we don't hate each other -- we do get mad at each other -- we still love each other. It also helps that he is always on my side and I can count on him to help me out when needed. Like when my car broke down, he called the repair shop to give them his credit card number to get it fixed for me. When he is not annoying the piss out of me, I kinda love him still. Dagnabbit! I'll never be rid of that man.
My mom manages my finances for me because some days my head is so fuzzy I don't keep track as well as I should. She also wants to make sure my money lasts for as long as possible, so she keeps me on a very short leash. I get a little tired of my short leash, to put it very mildly, so we had to have a talk recently. I let her know, as gently as possible, that it is not her, it's me. I want my freedom to see other mothers and am not sure I'm ready for a relationship of this magnitude yet. The nursing homes are full of mothers who need a good home and I felt that I should try others to see if she is really the mom for me. She found it all so funny that she said she would give me free access to my money and when it ran out, that was it and she wouldn't help me out. I was moved by her pleading so I decided to give her another chance. Now she stole my joke and threatens to breakup with me whenever this subject comes up. She also likes to tell everyone about how I wanted to breakup with her, but she leaves out her begging and pleading and my relenting. Yesterday, while Sugarbowl was talking to her, Sugarbowl told her some things I didn't want her to know and she started talking divorce again. Sugarbowl told her to think of the children! They have no choice in the matter and should not be made to suffer because of our little disagreements. We need to keep it together somehow and maybe couples therapy is something we should look into. Sugarbowl doesn't want us to divorce because my mom pays our utility bills and she pays a lump sum each month that includes all those bills. If my mom and I divorce, she would be paying more to cover all our expenses. I tell ya, if my mom doesn't watch her step, I am going to start frequenting the nursing homes and she will be out on her tight fisted rump with only memories to hold on to.
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