Right now. Coming down like big clumpy chunks of laundry detergent. Mrs. Wigglebottom is lying at my feet (as usual), snoring away.
Mom and Dad are both over at church. There are four church services today. I am hoping to miss all but one. In a perfect world, I could miss them all, but in a perfect world, I am immune to my parents’ disapproval, so there you go.
My parents have this nice new computer with a gig of memory and 200 gigs in the hard drive and some fancy-pants processor and still, it’s kind of slow.
I know they don’t have that much stuff on here, so I’m guessing the problems are 1. That they’re running IE and not Firefox and 2. That they’re running Norton and not McAfee. Some of you are more techy than I (Chris Wage), but it seems to me that Norton might not just be not very good, but actively ridiculous. Just this morning it had to shut everything down to tell me it had blocked some adware. Yes, very good, Norton, but in real life, you’re supposed to do that shit quietly.
So, I think I’m going to switch them over today, after lunch, after I take the dog for a walk. You would not believe how amazing the houses in this town are–my parents are in their big old turn of the century brick thing which I love, and on all sides they’re surrounded by gingerbread Victorians and stately brick four-squares. I haven’t had any chance to get out and walk it, so that’s my goal for this afternoon.
My grandma isn’t coming down from the suburbs for Thanksgiving for a variety of legitimate reasons that still upset my mom and my Aunt B.* We’re trying to work something out where we’ll go up there for dinner on Tuesday night.
I brought all this work with me to do. I’m not sure when it’s going to get done… If it gets done.
*Although, frankly, I prefer the legitimate reasons she can’t drive two hours now that she’s in her 80s to the bullshit reasons she always came up with to not spend holidays with us when we lived 40 miles south of her and she was ten years younger, so what can you do? I haven’t seen her since I moved to Tennessee. The Butcher went up to see her once; they had lunch plans; and he got there and she decided she had to run errands instead.
I don’t know. I’d like to believe she’s just getting old and fussy, but she seems to be able to do quiet a bit with my Aunt B.’s kids, so you know, a time comes when you just have to say, "Well, for whatever reasons, she doesn’t like us that much" and move on.
Still, I hope we can see her.