Housemates

One of the things I truly dislike, and I did it to myself last night, is waking up to dishes in the sink. I'm the default dishwasher loader of the family, and last night I just did not want to deal with it. Just... meh. No. So I set some things up to soak after dinner and said fuckkity bye to it all. "I'll deal with it in the morning." 

And then. There I was. 8:30am, sucking it up and doing the dishes. Before coffee. Be proud of me. And of course, in less than 90 minutes of everything being clean The Boy comes up and makes food. More dishes. More mess. While I'm sighing heavily and trying not to scream at him to not make a mess.

I've gotten after him so much in the last couple weeks about fucking cleaning up after himself. Thing is, he always thinks he did clean up after himself! But then I stand there and point to this thing, and ask why there are onion skins on the counter, and why didn't you wipe this. That. The other thing. 

"But why is there tomato sauce on the counter? Why is there an empty bag of shredded cheese on the counter? Why is there coffee spilled on the counter? And yes, now there are 90 dishes in the sink again. Thanks. Thanks so much." 

There are days, dear hearts, and I don't say this lightly. Days when I wish I lived alone. And yes! Yes I know. I have friends who live alone. They are single (not partnered), divorced, separated, widowed.

They hate it, they pine for companionship. I have one friend that if any of her friends say something negative about their partner situation you get AT LEAST YOU'VE GOT SOMEONE! as a reply. 

Honey, I know. I know. 

We gripe about our "housemates" when others do not have such "housemates." It is only natural. 

Doug and I went to the doctors for some blood work today, 40 minute ride each way. I've cut it close by leaving here at 4pm previously, so today we left at 12:30 and were back by 2pm. 

While we were gone, Geoff brought a whole bunch of books upstairs that he must have know I wanted brought upstairs. He didn't put them in exactly the right spot, but, I don't have to bring these upstairs now. 

So there's that. 

Some days, I'd like to be alone and the only one responsible for cleaning up the kitchen when I am the one who made the mess. And then other days I'm very happy Doug changes the wiper blades on the car, and cleans up the dog shit in the yard that 2 feet of snow left behind for us. And Geoff makes dinner most nights. I don't have to even think about it. 

There are pros and cons to this life. 

In other news, my cousin's birthday is tomorrow. Will make a point to be up early and text. We're driving down on Saturday to visit. And he has some huge agenda of stuff we're going to do for his Big Day Out when all Doug and I thought was we're taking him out to dinner. 

He started blowing up my phone with calls and texts at 10am when I was in scrum. So once his texts revealed this was not an emergency I just let it slide until we left to go to the doctor. 

"What's up?" I texted him. 

He wanted to get a haircut Saturday and DESPERATELY needed me to tell him what time we'd get there. 

"Dude." I replied. "It depends on how fucked up Virginia is between my house and you. 2 hour trip took almost 5 hours last time. We're planning to leave before noon. Don't make a 9am appointment. Aim for 3 or 4. We'll try to leave earlier than 11. That should math." 

Then he texts 900 times about how he really needs us to be there in time to take him and is 3pm okay? Can I make an appointment for 3? (I let him stew there for 15 minutes before writing back). I told him yeah sure go, 3pm make the appointment. 

He made that appointment and then another appointment for 3:45 just in case. 

Doug said to me, "The facility he is in has people who come in and cut hair. I know they do. I worked at nursing homes. Why does he want a haircut out in the world. The facility provides." 

So I asked him that and of course got:

1. It is expensive
2. They only come once a month
3. They do a shitty job
4. I don't want to use any of the services at this "facility" 

Okay. As I predicted when I told Doug that he was going to come back with reasons why not, he sure did. 

THEN he says "I thought we could go to the museum when you get here, if it is before 11 (not happening dude) and then get the haircut."

"??????" says I. "What museum? I didn't have a museum visit on my dance card." 

He assumed we'd come down Friday night and stay at a hotel (no. 95 on a Friday. No fuck right off no fucking way) and then we'd be available Saturday morning to go to a museum. 

"The museum is free," he says. 

That's nice. So nice that the museum is free. Not going to a museum. We will be there to take you for your haircut but no promises we'll be there earlier.

I got the impression he thinks this is Ferris Buehler's Day Off with a full day of us motoring him all over Richmond to do fun stuff. 

Bro. For real, Bro, this is taking the piss out of me just to get in the car and drive down to take you to dinner. I'm exhausted already. I've been crazy busy with work. Please do not expect us to take you all over hell and half of Virginia to do things. 

I know he is cooped up, he's bored. And its his birthday. Which we didn't think he'd make it to. And he most likely won't make it to next February 20th.

But please, just ... the haircut and the dinner. That's our joy and celebration with you. It's what I can muster. And then we are northbound and down on Sunday morning. 

He probably wants us to take him to brunch Sunday. To be honest, I'd do brekkie with him. But I want to be clear from Richmond by 2pm at the absolute latest. 

After work today, I hit the treadmill. Then, I did more unpacking of stuff. Organized the books that Geoff so lovingly brought upstairs. I went into the basement into the area I want to make my office and I moved around boxes, and I honestly can't believe there is still more stuff to go through. Why, Lord? Why do I have such stuffs?

I unpacked two other boxes of books and put things on the Gary bookshelf that Geoff stole to the basement. I moved all the pieces of his drum set into the water cooler room and I'm thinking of reaching out to the local FB page to see if there is someone who wants to come help him set the drum set back up. Where our furnace is, there is TONS of storage, so I moved a shit ton of boxes in there. 

I swept the staircase that goes to the basement because I noticed how messy it had gotten. And I also noticed the staircase going up to our room is also kind of in need of a swiffer or wiping. Tomorrow. Not tonight.

For some reason I felt incredibly restless this evening so it is good to feel that way and channel that shit into action. Usually it is baking, but I'm trying not to bake lest I eat all the cookies.

And happily, the dishwasher is loaded and running before bed. Nice clean kitchen to welcome us in the morning. 

Digits below this snugglebeast who insisted on wrapping up into fleecies and usurping my sweatshirt. 

digits

exercise: 12/12 hours. Treadmill, 20 min/1.3 mi; raining so no walk for the dog. 11k+ steps by bedtime (thanks to all my futzing).

blood glucose:

8:30am: 137
5pm: 145
10:45pm: 112  

food & meds:
8:30am: jardiance (waiting on phentermine)
9:30am: apple w/pb; some mixed nuts
12:15pm: met+glip (on my way to the doctors for blood work, took earlier than usual) 
2pm: turkey and muenster on 647 white w/lite mayo
6pm: pierogis, mixed veggies, kielbasa. White wine.
8:45pm: met+glip