More Fantasy...
I am in the process of moving out Number One and the Idiots stuff. (Long story, perhaps for a post where I feel like crying) At any rate, I was, mere moments ago, struggling with a mattress in the hallway when I remembered one of my fondest fantasies.
It goes like this -- My mother is in my hall way in the middle of the day cleaning everything out of Number Ones room (Again, don't ask) when she stumbles and falls, wedging herself in the hall under the mattress where she promptly suffocates. I return home to discover her dead body in my hallway, already stiffening so clearly too late for CPR no matter how valiantly I may try to revive her (after fetching my CPR mask from the cabinet of course).
This one was so tasty, so beloved, that I used to day dream it even after she managed to get the mattress out by herself. Even after she had erased all traces of Number One from my house. Even after she had packed all her own stuff and moved to South Carolina. Even today, kids.
But then it dawned on me, the nature of irony, as I wobbled and tottered in the hall with the mattress. The nature of irony is that it would be ME that fell, and ME that wedged and ME that suffocated so completely -- stiffened and cooled. ME! I don't wanna die of terminal irony!
So I am leaving that mattress wedged in the hall until someone shows up to help me. Or at least do CPR if I stumble. After fetching the mask, of course.
It goes like this -- My mother is in my hall way in the middle of the day cleaning everything out of Number Ones room (Again, don't ask) when she stumbles and falls, wedging herself in the hall under the mattress where she promptly suffocates. I return home to discover her dead body in my hallway, already stiffening so clearly too late for CPR no matter how valiantly I may try to revive her (after fetching my CPR mask from the cabinet of course).
This one was so tasty, so beloved, that I used to day dream it even after she managed to get the mattress out by herself. Even after she had erased all traces of Number One from my house. Even after she had packed all her own stuff and moved to South Carolina. Even today, kids.
But then it dawned on me, the nature of irony, as I wobbled and tottered in the hall with the mattress. The nature of irony is that it would be ME that fell, and ME that wedged and ME that suffocated so completely -- stiffened and cooled. ME! I don't wanna die of terminal irony!
So I am leaving that mattress wedged in the hall until someone shows up to help me. Or at least do CPR if I stumble. After fetching the mask, of course.
posted by Bad Penny at 4:11 PM
6 Comments:
I've go a 30 year old son at the house I've been trying to move out for years!! His 5 year old son lives with his mother, and my *&^%^& son won't even pay child support, actually he won't even get a job.
Are you for hire, I'll pay you to boot him out for me. It'll get rid of your fustrations and give me some peace and quite.
My fantasy involves a bath full of baked beans and Kate Winslet or Winona Rider.
But that's probably too much information.
Junebugg - I have a friend who sold her house to get her daughter to move out.
It worked, but she moved to Oregon to do it... ah well. She's happy, has cool new place and the daughter is down her mooching off of "friends".
that should say "down HERE" ...
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Hey, Anonymous -- eat poop and die.
Wheeeeere are youooooo, Bad Penny? I miss you!
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