More of the Same (Once More, with Catfish)
Ah, so. I had lunch today with my high school AP English teacher. She is a small woman with a rather alarming grey perm, but she's extremely smart and so funny. Aw, I know, I'm such a big dork. But I'm okay with that. We chatted, and she pretended to be impressed with my pathetic little job and my half-assed attempt at finishing grad school. Nice lady, that woman. She's going to check into the school-librarian thing for me.
The Catfish House was just as magical and special as you would expect. Just to refresh everyone's memory, my dad = asshole. On my way to my parents' house (to meet and caravan out to said Catfish House), my dad calls my cellphone. Why, you ask? Why, to ask me to pick up a gift for my mother "from him." What?! It's 5:45 ON her fucking BIRTHDAY. No matter. To make things worse, he wanted to get her a spa gift certificate, which was the exact same thing my sister had already gotten her. When I told him this, he said, "Well, make sure mine is for more money." That's beautiful, really. I think I might get a little misty-eyed just talking about it. I was all worried about my sister getting upset, so I also bought her some aquamarine earrings (to match the ring we got her for Mother's Day), on Dad, of course. Then, I bought some OPI nail polish and goodies to make my sister's gift more manicure-themed and dad's more spa-themed. I am such a dork. Anyway, she loved all of her goodies, even the catfish. My other sister got her Clay Aiken's CD, and I think that was the gift my mom got the most excited about. Aw. Ha?
So, after my night of catfish and family funtimes, I went home to my husband, who was planted firmly on the couch, watching basketball. I'm not much for basketball, but I'll take it over catfish and dad-time. I read a bit of The Secret History (something I've wanted to read for years now, and I finally can now that I'm pretending my thesis doesn't exist!) and fell asleep.
Today at work, I've managed to get absolutely nothing done but research on some houses that I'm pretending I can buy. I'm sure my husband is quite tired of this little game, where I send him pictures and floorplans of houses for sale. I will tell him things I like about the house--big kitchen, separate dining room, clawfoot tub, garage. Then, I will tell him some of my reservations--only one full bathroom, basement is unfinished, no covered parking--to which I'm sure he would like to add, "AND, in exchange for this house, we would have to give someone some sort of MONEY." But, he is nice and accommodating and lets me live in my little dream-world.
Tonight, we will have a "real" birthday dinner at a proper, fancy-schmancy place, where there are no bowls of white beans and hush puppies (not that I don't enjoy white beans and hush puppies, mind you). We'll have a girls' night out, with champagne and all that jazz.
I should probably try to get some work done now, especially since tomorrow is Friday, and I never feel like working on Fridays. This weekend will be spent trying to avoid the Bonnaroonies. Whee, traffic for miles and miles!