The RAIN in Spain.

26 Feb

The past five months or so have been a blur. I know everyone says that. But I’m serious. Because my Lasik didn’t really take, so I can’t see without copious amounts of eye drops.

And besides that, the hubby got laid off and a week later my cousin was killed and our basement flooded (along with the rest of our state).

Since our house wasn’t in the flood plain (and I’d checked that online and then again because of my OCD), we weren’t concerned when the neighbors started building an ark. Or when the retention pond up at the school built to withstand the 100-year-flood started to overflow.

My cousin’s death was a tragedy of the deepest depths. While we were being rained upon with a vengeance, she flipped herself and her two best friends and dog upside down in a creek and they all drowned. If it hadn’t been so fucking sad and tragic, it would have been ironic. I guess it still is, since irony can be shaded with sad.

The water came pouring in on us that very afternoon, just as I was trying to find a flight back home. Then everything here went to hell, with bean curled in a ball as a six-foot-wall of water poured in her window well and then straight into her room.

The funny part of the flood is that afterwards, everyone tries to make sure everyone else knows that they know how lucky they were considering. “Well, at least I still have a house.” “Yea. It could’ve been so much worse. Like the five feet of sewage the Cronins/Browns, etc. got.”

The good news is that the locusts didn’t come too. And the hubby had all sorts of free time to get the basement back to living condition for the girls.

So after a couple of months of them on mattresses in our office with our total square footage cut in half, we were back and better by first of November. A record-setting, ribbon-cutting worthy moment. Especially since all those poor sap friends with jobs are just now or not even back to normal. 

And since our luck had been so good and our paychecks were so plentiful, we decided it was high time to get a hot tub. Big surprise for the girls on Christmas morn: “Look! We got you a CEMENT PAD!!!” They loved it and started to jump rope on it right away.

Then the hot tub came a few days later. Much to their chagrin.

I also got to go back to South Carolina in October for a gathering of cousins. My dear friend, Debra, hooked us up with a sweet house in Folly Beach and the owner donated it. I was so incredibly touched. 

And then the reality of all of those crazy asses taking over this precious little donated cottage hit and I spent the weekend being called ‘the chaperone’ by my sweet brother and fretting that all of the puking that was going on was going to clog the septic line.

Plus, I spent every night but one (of the six) sharing a bed with my mom. Who has a CPAP for the apnea and rarely wears underwear to bed. So, 1. if she got too quiet, I’d think she was dead and my brother kept saying she was “my responsibility.’ and 2. she really likes to cuddle. I don’t like being touched when I’m sleeping. Much less by my own mother who’s off in Darth Vader/CPAP land and isn’t adequately clothed.

And, when she wakes up in the night — which is frequent — she launches into WIDE AWAKE CONVERSATIONS like you’ve just been sitting there this whole time sipping an OJ and flipping through a trashy mag.

That weekend was one for the ages and I think we did my cousin proud. She would’ve been right there in that bed with us trying to spoon me too. (Elizabeth will be relieved I didn’t feature her. That’s for the next blog.)

I went back for round two in January after mom tried to bite it by ingesting a grill brush bristle and perforating her colon. Luckily it abscessed and sealed. But she still lost 10 inches and I couldn’t stop thinking, “What is it with this family and colons?” Then, just when she was about to go home, she starting hemorrhaging and wouldn’t stop. So every time she didn’t call back I was freaking out. Never a dull moment. 

Now on this side of 2014, I just keep hoping for dull and boring. 

So far, we’re making a go of the husband-and-wife wonder twin powers to activate some income via Mugs & Wit. You should see the look on your face just picturing trying to work with your spouse. 

No complaints so far other than:

  1. Trying to train a grown man from scratch on a new industry takes undying patience and love for said man.
  2. Having all of your eggs in one basket means you use one too many clichés (and suffer from chronic heartburn).
  3. Balancing billable, deadline-oriented work with training, creative direction, managing and re-branding a company after 10 years means IF I DON’T GET A DAMNED MASSAGE I’LL CUTTA BITCH.
  4. My attention-to-detail is not the same as that of — er— others…

 And other than some mild teenage drama involving stranger video chat rooms and a bean who pukes on people’s shoes when she gets a migraine, life is pretty much as hoped. Boring/dull with a side of hot tub.

Let’s keep it that way.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: This is how I show my love. I made it in my mind because I blame it on my ADD… Sail. Awolnation.


3 Responses to “The RAIN in Spain.”

  1. Eve Proft February 26, 2014 at 10:08 pm #

    I wish I could write something profound and funny. But I cannot, hence please know I admire you and your family, and welcome the laughs interjected within your blog.


  2. Robbie K (@momma23monkeys) March 7, 2014 at 8:25 pm #

    I hope 2014 is kinder to you and yours. At least you are able to see the humor in your situations….


    • soboclassifieds March 10, 2014 at 2:47 pm #

      Thanks! And, yes, humor is the only way (for me). Enjoying your blog – so glad you reached out!


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