Holiday Update
Let's see...Currently, I'm at Mrs Schwartz' sister's house. They have left town to visit other relatives. Mrs Schwartz and Zachary are asleep nearby.
She has to work here during the day, but nobody else in the world is doing anything, so it's pretty slow.
Zachary and I are seeking refuge from my mother's house. Old Widow Schwartz is a chain smoker. Being in her house is equivalent to smoking a pack a day. She's also the only one who doesn't mind having Zachary live with her for a week.
Every morning, we wake up with bloodshot eyes, sore throats, and coughing up some sort of nicotine-stained goo. It generally goes away by lunch, but today it's hanging on. Our clothes, including those we haven't unpacked, smell like we've spent the evening in a bar, back when you could smoke in bars. It's nasty.
Widow Schwartz has officially turned into a crazy cat lady. I think she has four, or six. I don't know. She was regaling us with plots and sub-plots of cat-intrigue. Apparently, there's some sort of power struggle, or cat coup going on. I was too desperate for O2 to get all the details.
Mrs Schwartz has been a trooper, but she has informed me that she will be spending the evening here. Zachary is forbidden from entering the building so we're breaking the rules, but we're desperate.
Not being the breeding type, I'm not always quick to the uptake. No sooner had we arrived at the inlaws on Christmas morning, then I said for all to hear, "Oh yeah, I remember you said you got Johnny a case of root beer for christmas. That's funny; a kid wanting a case of..."
Steely glares from all the adults, accompanied by 7-year-old Johnny saying, "No, Santa brought me root beer."
Whoops.
We went to my sister's house in the country for the big feast. We saw all the relatives, including some inlaws I hadn't previous met. No fights. Good times.
I am reminded that everyone here survives on beer, coffee, and cigarettes.
She has to work here during the day, but nobody else in the world is doing anything, so it's pretty slow.
Zachary and I are seeking refuge from my mother's house. Old Widow Schwartz is a chain smoker. Being in her house is equivalent to smoking a pack a day. She's also the only one who doesn't mind having Zachary live with her for a week.
Every morning, we wake up with bloodshot eyes, sore throats, and coughing up some sort of nicotine-stained goo. It generally goes away by lunch, but today it's hanging on. Our clothes, including those we haven't unpacked, smell like we've spent the evening in a bar, back when you could smoke in bars. It's nasty.
Widow Schwartz has officially turned into a crazy cat lady. I think she has four, or six. I don't know. She was regaling us with plots and sub-plots of cat-intrigue. Apparently, there's some sort of power struggle, or cat coup going on. I was too desperate for O2 to get all the details.
Mrs Schwartz has been a trooper, but she has informed me that she will be spending the evening here. Zachary is forbidden from entering the building so we're breaking the rules, but we're desperate.
Not being the breeding type, I'm not always quick to the uptake. No sooner had we arrived at the inlaws on Christmas morning, then I said for all to hear, "Oh yeah, I remember you said you got Johnny a case of root beer for christmas. That's funny; a kid wanting a case of..."
Steely glares from all the adults, accompanied by 7-year-old Johnny saying, "No, Santa brought me root beer."
Whoops.
We went to my sister's house in the country for the big feast. We saw all the relatives, including some inlaws I hadn't previous met. No fights. Good times.
I am reminded that everyone here survives on beer, coffee, and cigarettes.
posted by Exador at
4:01 PM
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