I’ve had nearly two weeks of vacation – here, there, and everywhere – and I’m basking in the feeling of accomplishment that can only be achieved by unpacking everything, starting laundry, and grocery shopping. I am a person who needs to unpack immediately upon setting foot in the house. I get tense at the mere thought of unpacked suitcases, partially-emptied toiletry cases, and mountains of laundry which makes me a joy to be around. In related news, a very dear friend JUST emailed me about woolen dryer balls, knowing that I would enjoy that information in a hausfrau kind of way. And I do! I do enjoy household tips because I am apparently – and non-ironically – some kind of Heloise person.
The vacation itself was lovely, full of sun, water, and many alcoholic beverages. Also related: I need to go on a cleanse. Travel was smooth but profanity-laced, as always with any kind of road trip that my husband undertakes. In general, I tend to sing to myself while staring out the window blankly like David Putty and the airplane seatback, while my husband says things like “Mother-FUCKER. Get off the goddamn road, you cock-sucking moron. What the FUCK. No, don’t use your signal, you ASSHOLE.” Repeat as needed. It seems that the drivers that enrage him the most are: a) people who drive under the speed limit on two-lane roads and curves, but speed up so as to be unpassable while in passing zones, b) people who are doing a) while driving gargantuan recreational vehicles, and c) people who do not use their signal lights while changing lanes.
I actually became concerned about his blood pressure, what with all the swearing, however, he assured me that such vehement exclamations actually lowered his blood pressure and made him feel better. I myself feel that this is a zero-sum game, since my stress level seems to be affected by this, in what I call “Post Traumatic Swearing Contractor Syndrome“. I should probably mention that my children during these times are either completely oblivious due to their headphones, or extremely sympathetic. “That guy is a bad driver, right Dad?”
Also – I don’t know how it is in your house but my husband likes to make “good time”. On the way to my in-laws’ he decided that he had a goal to get there by noon. This goal was established at about 11:00 am, and was achieved, but not without much profanity. I tried to convince everyone in the car that no one was expecting us that early, and anyway arriving at 12:10 or even 12:30 would still be excellent, but no. We arrived at 11:59 and piled out of the car, where I immediately took my father-in-law up on his offer of a frosty alcoholic beverage.
I have many more tales to tell, but someone around here (ME) needs to make dinner before the kids get back from karate. Hey, when you leave at 5:30 in the morning, the happy result is that you have much of the day ahead of you when you arrive at your destination, and the kids were able to “relax” Frank Underwood-style for a while before heading to their class. I need to figure out how to incorporate zucchini into everything. My dear mother-in-law is the type of generous person who, when you say you like something, gives you massive amounts of that item. So, when I said “Sure, I’d love a couple of zucchinis!” I received twenty-one, in varying sizes. Fellow zucchini-lovers, please tune into Yummy Mummy Club over the next few weeks as I deal with my surplus zucchini.
Speaking of vegetables, on the way home I initiated our usual game of “Let’s pretend we’re 1970s truckers; what would be your CB name?” I chose Red Pepper for myself but then had to continually explain my choice, which was disappointing and tedious. What would you choose? Please tell me, I’ve missed this blog terribly!