It has been freakishly snowing all day, not so much coming down in flakes as in clumps. It's only now starting to stick. While I realize it's still March, and so technically it could snow, it is spring, so technically, no. I vote NO on snow in the springtime!Martyr Boy has just come home, which is how I know it's sticking since I've been a veg on the couch for the last hour and half. I told him that R had just called from the bus on the way home from the city and suggested a trip to the supermarket when she arrives. He looked all martyred and said "Oh, okay. I just pulled all the cars in [to the driveway, off the road, snow position] but I'll go move them so you can drive yours." And begins to button up his shirt again. And sighs the deep sigh of the passive-aggressive. Really, I can't stand that. I assured him that I was capable of driving whichever car happens to be most accessible in the driveway (it's a long driveway, cars in a row). But he only gave it up when I suggested that R might not want to go gallivating about in the weather once she gets home. (At which point, she and I are capable of moving cars if we want to, no?) I suppose this is all in the name of doing something nice for me -- the case could be made -- but it's really just the whole "I am a passive-aggressive martyr, in case you haven't noticed in the last 27 years" thing. I can tell the difference.
R is taking a class in the city this week and stayed late last night and so wasn't going to be home until after midnight. Let me tell you, the mere thought that a loved one would be riding the NYC subways alone late at night just did me in. So I couldn't go to sleep til she got home, which was 12:30, and of course the alarm goes off at 5:30 and so I'm beat all day. The irony, of course, is that I had no knowledge of such details of transportation when she lived in Europe for a year, nor do I have it of her sister's whereabouts minute by minute in another major American city (or Europe, for that matter, when she was there.) But if they're living in this house, then I know, and it freaks me out. It's like my parents are pulling my puppet strings from the grave, making me behave like the nervous crazy persons they always were.
The Colleague's daughter did indeed have her baby yesterday afternoon, although she didn't call me until this morning, which was understandable. She did get to be at the hospital moments after the birth, so that was good. Everybody is fine, it was a short labor, and the Colleague is now chasing after the toddler brother, whom I could hear shrieking in the background when we were on the phone. (I believe he was calling out orders to the convoy of trucks he had lined up in a snake going from room to room in her house. He's the cutest little guy ever.) So that was the happy news of the day today.
The muscles in my arms are very sore from my workout yesterday so I'm not going to do the weights today. I think I've heard (through the grapevine? Where would I hear such a thing?) that you're not supposed to do weight workouts with the same muscle groups every day. Or I could have dreamed that, or made it up, or heard it on a fifties sitcom years ago. But the stretching should feel very good. After the supermarket, perhaps.
Okay, I've eaten my leftover chicken from last night, which was very good, and I went back to wash my dishes. As the Hubs was about to begin to prepare his non-meat food. But when I came in holding a plate, he dropped what he was doing and rushed out of the room, lest he "be in my way." Or maybe it's because I was in his way, using the sink when he needed the counter and the stove. Yes, that's it. He doesn't like to work in the kitchen if anyone else is in there. (It's a small kitchen, yes. But.) He's really in full martyr mode tonight, folks. Or else I'm particularly sensitive to it tonight for some reason. *sigh*
Ah, there's the kid at the door. Time to plan my next move.
