Monday, September 28, 2009

cryptic text messages from my father, and other stories from the homestead.

as you may or may not know, i recently moved back in with my parents. while i still slightly shudder when telling this to people, the adjustment, in general, is chugging along somewhat more smoothly than i had thought. i'm not saying this is at all ideal, and after three weeks i still wake up every morning thinking what the hell has happened to me, but if you had to choose a set of parents to live with, mine most definitely are not the worst of the lot. they're actually pretty great - helpful, benevolent, non-obtrusive, little-to-no psychosis - and are turning out to be the most useful roommates* i've ever had.

there's also the unintentional hilarity that they provide. while no stranger to living in a realm of constant ridiculousness after all the nonsense that missy, bear, and i pulled during the past few years, it's gone to a whole new level in dealing everyday with the folks. there are the notes my mother leaves for me every morning when she leaves for work, the shouts of, "chris, are you ok?!" every single time i drop something (which, as i'm learning living in a place where it's acknowledged every time i drop something, is pretty damn often), the regular discussions that start with "you didn't used to do that when you were younger" that have me defending everything from the amount of water i use when i wash dishes to the fact that i shuffle around when i wear slippers and leave windows open when it's raining outside. and then of course there is the rediscovery of the divide between my peers and those of an earlier generation.

for instance, my father, an intelligent man but nevertheless from a less technologically advanced era, cannot text message for the life of him. so he's taken to answering my texts with random letters and words, so i "at least know he's received them", and sending them to me when he wants me to call him back. last night i received an "MI" (which, as it turned out, was just an attempt at replying "OK") and, later in the evening (when, embarrassingly enough, my bar companions took me checking my phone and smirking, at such a late hour, to mean i had received a booty call) a miscellaneous "MOON". no guys, seriously, it's just my dad sending over his typographical bat signals.

on the flip side, i'm also learning that although in their early 50's they are surpassing me in some surprising realms. like fitness, as i discovered the other day when i decided to do my mother's workout video with her. she marched into the room with two sets of weights and informed me that i could use the 1lb weights while she would use the 3lb ones.

my arms are still sore. hers, not so much.


i had taken a bit of a siesta from good old loveandcyanide because i felt i had lost my muse, and had veered off from our original theme, and i wasn't quite sure what to do with it anymore...but i'm thinking living with the parents will provide me with enough fodder for awhile.