So, I realized this morning that I am living a game show nightmare. Its kind of like the movie "Ground Hog's Day", except there is no Bill Murray.... and Bill finally got it right and got to move on. It is apparent I will not have the luxury of getting out of this hell. Just in the past week, I should have had enough correct answers to win the big money, but no. I'm still going. There are the Cassie questions like "Whats the difference between a washer and a drier?" (one washes and the other dries) and "Where are the scissors?" (on the counter. "Which one?" The one in the kitchen, where we keep our counters.) Then there are the Pitman questions like "Who is that actress, and where have I seen her before?" and "Who sings this song? The Beatles? No. It doesn't sound like the Beatles, are you sure?" Yes, Pitman, I'm certain that the Beatles sang "Come Together". After all these years,and correct answers to silly questions, the man still doubts me.
Moving has really increased the amount of questions I need to answer. I feel like I have entered the speed round. "Where are the curtain rods for the bedroom?" (in the bedroom) "What about the rods for the bathroom?" (in the bathroom). I handle most of these with the grace, dignity, and sarcasm that only a Mother can have. Until this morning. See, Pitman's alarm is set for 5:something a-freakin-m. I don't know the exact time, I don't want to know, and I really don't care. He shuts it off and proceeds to the shower. He wakes me up sometime after he's back in the bedroom and dressed, at which time I stagger towards the coffee. But not this morning. The Speed Round continued the moment the alarm went off.
"Where's Marley?", he asks, waking me up moments after I fell back to sleep after being rudely awakened by the alarm clock. I ignored him. I guess I missed answering that question, which is good. If I could have coherently spoken, the answer would have been "If he were up your ass, you'd know it." Yes, I'm a bit grumpy until coffee time. After much noise, he found the puppy and put him back in bed with me. I'm certain I was back to sleep before he got out of the shower. But then he comes back in the bedroom, more lost Marley talk, followed by a bunch of "get in here"'s. I'm certain that Cassie will be waking up in a moment. But I ignore him and pretend to sleep through it, seething on my pillow. Then the next question, "Where is the change jug?" I open my mouth to give the response above, about the puppy and Pitman's butt, but instead give the correct answer "Next to your freakin' bedside table, where its always been". I do my best to keep things the same, even though its a new house. His response? "Oh, cool!!", and I go back to feigning sleep. Then the final question, the one that I dread hearing, because it means he's dressed and ready to go downstairs. "So, you ready to make the bed?" No, actually, I'm not. The bed is fine just the way it is, with me in it. But, I get up, make the bed, potty, and stagger to my coffee. I really need to keep things on my bedside table to peg at people who talk to me while I'm pretending to sleep.
All in all, I'm certain I will not be permitted to leave my game show anytime in the near future. Maybe I hope I wont, because then I'll probably be dead. See, I think St. Peter's job isn't to screen entry applicants to Heaven, but to say "Thank you for playing!!! We have some lovely parting consolation gifts!!" as he opens the Pearly Gates.
I have a few small concealable nerf guns that fire surprisingly fast that you could store under your pillow.
ReplyDeleteSo, God, tell her what's she's won.