It gets better

OK…so this one can also be filed under the heading “This is why we can’t have nice things”

I have to take us back to Sunday morning….wait…Saturday night.
Late last week, after a 7 hour delay at RDU, my parents took Shmuppie to Disney. They were to go for a holiday trip. Good…it served one purpose definitely and one in possibility:
1D: It got Shmuppie out of the house
1P: It MAYBE got her Diensy-ed out so we would not have to go next fall.

Sidenote: My mother pulled an ass muscle sometime in the past. She refuses all medical treatment for this. Why? Because that’s how my family works. If it’s not visibly deformed or if you haven’t exploded into a disfiguring rash, you don’t seek medical care. (By the way, my brother and I do NOT prescribe to this theory…hence we are fairies). She spent the weekend in VA in pain and, at one point, after being coerced into taking a powerful muscle relaxer by my father, slammed her hand in a car door because she was so addled and confused.

Happy birthday!
/end sidenote

Back to last weekend:
Saturday night: JewelrySlut and I just want a nice peaceful night. We put Moo to bed and I made a nice dinner. All we wanted was a little wine, a little TV, a little sexy time. I left my phone in the kitchen.

Sunday morning, I staggered downstairs to make coffee and was greeted by a blinking BB and a string of texts from Bob. The theme was “Your mother needs to leave now. Find us a flight”
I call him and he’s waiting to try to get on a 1:50 flight instead of their scheduled 7:30 flight. If he can’t get on that flight, he’s driving home.
“You do know it will take longer to drive, right?”
“At least I’ll be moving”

And there’s another reason why we can’t have nice things. My father would rather subject my mother to a 10 hour car ride to prove that he’s trying to get her home than having her lie down in a hotel room before the flight. OK…I’m not gonna argue. Of course, by doing this, he cut Shmuppie’s trip another day short. What was meant to be a 4-day trip just turned into 2. Great. I figured that this decision cost me $2000. There’s no avoiding next fall’s trip.

Shoot me.

PS: He was also happy to be home and back to his dogs a few hours earlier. Thanks, Dad. You just cut your granddaughter’s trip to Disney in half so you could go home and nuzzle your dogs. Priorities? Bob haz them.

Fast-forward to Monday night (with a stop back in VA)
Brother and SIL were instructed to bring an air mattress to VA so they could give it to my parents so one of the kids could sleep on it.
This is necessary because nobody is allowed to sleep in Shmuppie’s room but Shmuppie. So, they plan to have the boys sleep on separate air mattresses in the sewing room while Shmuppie’s room goes unused.

The phone rings on Monday. It’s my mother.
Do you have a Coleman air bed?
Do you have a pump?
How the hell else would I inflate it?
They didn’t send the pump to VA.
What does the bed look like? What kind of pump is needed?
Let me get your father.

Hello (angry)
What does the opening look like? Ours has a little docking port thingie.
There’s a big hole.
No docking port thing? If there isn’t, our pump won’t work.

*My cell rings…it’s my brother. I hit ignore. The house phone clicks…it’s SIL.

Hold on…they’re calling me from MD.

Brother: IS HE INSANE?
Yes…I’ll call you back

OK…so, it sounds like our pump won’t work.
(Grumbling)…I’ll just come over. (To my mother) I’m going to their house. (To me) Your mother is telling me not to which means I have to.
“SQUAWK I didn’t say that SQUAWK”
But they boys don’t arrive until the morning. You don’t need it now
They arrive tomorrow morning which is precisely why I need it now.
But they don’t arrive until the morning. It’s morning. People sleep at night.
They have a red-eye flight. They’ll be tired.
No they won’t. They’ll start playing video games.
I’m coming.

We call my brother back and look for the air mattress. Much hilarity ensues.

15 minutes later, Bob arrives…dragging a deflated air mattress. We still don’t know why he brought the deflated one (and cute carrying bag) to our house. I hand over my air mattress and send him on his way.

JewelrySlut pours herself another drink.

We try to sit down and watch TV. The texting begins.

Oldest first:
9:26PM: will this be a 20-30 minute process for initial fill?

9:35PM: Um…it takes a little while. Is it filling?

9:33PM (Not sure how my BB went back in time): sorta…it’s off the ground and about 6″ but soft-ish

9:37PM: brett favre is there? it should be done soon

9:35PM: k…thnx

10:02 (Bob again): does the perimeter get any firmness at all

(Mind you…it’s now been 36 minutes since he started filling the air mattress)

10:07PM: it should fill and get firm. i can go up in the AM to check it. its OK for now

10:05PM: I’ll get new batteries in the morning.

/end scene

Bob is insane
Bob tried to fill an air mattress with a pump that had dead batteries. It takes 4 D batteries but I only had 3 at the house. I opted to send him with no extras figuring that if I sent 3, I’d be in even more trouble

This is gonna be a hell of a holiday season

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