The good news: we have internet, as of, I think, Friday, thanks to Mr. RK. An open note to the Frontier Communications company: You can all suck it. It's no thanks to you that we're up and running (and we are no longer a customer, so there.)
On my recent birthday, I told my dad I didn't feel grown up enough to be the age I am now. When my parents were my age, they seemed to be more grown up (not older. Hey, he might be reading this.) But this week, oh, how times have changed.
I had to double up on the decaf last week. Then I realized we had packed, moved, unpacked, cleaned, etc. every day for two weeks. (Did this stop my new insurance agent, who is all of 22, from emailing me THE MORNING AFTER the weekend I moved asking if I needed more time to proceed? No.)
I work with her mom and she said, "Oh, younger people, they move and it's no big deal." Ouch! Then again, I don't remember a move ever being this much of a pain because I wasn't moving anyone's shit except my own. I am not a packrat. I don't know how I ended up with enough stuff to fill a space twice the size of the one we were in previously.
My dad is talking about my 40th birthday trip which is two years down the road!
Note to self: I can't possibly be heading for that number. Right?
And a meeting of the board I'm on got rescheduled for the night before I'm supposed to leave to set up one of our events. It's only two hours away, but I am thinking, "Damn, I'll be up too late! And tired! I must skip it!" Maybe I just don't like meetings all that much. Or maybe I'm a grownup.
And lastly, I am posting pics of a teenager on social media, which I believe is something old people do. The kid in question is not mine (mine have four paws and a lot of fur), but my brother B, above, whose time has been consumed as of late by AP chemistry.
Mr. RK just wandered in, looked at this picture, and asked, "What the FUCK is that? B is surely going to kill us all."
He'd probably like that. Except there wouldn't be anyone left to pay for coffee.