Me, Austin & Mom have started a tradition since COVID. We get carry-out once a week and eat together. We had the house opened up, since it’s nice out.
Mom: And I can leave through the front door?
Austin: We’d rather you leave from the second floor. Just run straight at the window and keep going.
Austin & I were talking about getting old. Not only am I over forty, I’m more than halfway to fifty!
Austin: I’m almost forty. I was just thinking the other day, ‘I’m thirty-six years old.’
Me: Unless the other day was several months ago, you’re thirty-seven.
Austin, blank look.
Me: We’ve got nine years between us. I’m forty-six, so you’re thirty-seven.
Austin: We’ve got ten years between us. You’re forty-six, so I’m thirty-six.
Me: You’ve had your birthday, so there’s nine years between us. You’re thirty-seven.
Austin, dumb-founded, counting on his fingers, trying to do math.
Me: Hey Siri, what’s 2021 minus 1984.
Siri: Two-thousand-twenty-one minus one-thousand-nine-hundred-eighty-four is thirty-seven.
Austin: Oh no!
Me, patting his back: Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. And it’s also going to happen on Facebook.
Austin: Loni (friend) just texted me. They’re going to be busy, so I’m not going to be able to go over there.
Me: What about Pete (brother)?
Austin: He’s in Indiana.
Me: So you’re going to be home?
Austin nodded.
Me: The whole weekend? With me?
Me: The SD on the current project I’m on has lost her husband. Not recently, within the last year or so. Nevertheless, she keeps mentioning, “When my husband was alive”, “before my husband die”. It makes me think about how much I love you and how much I’d hurt if I lost you.
I go over and hug him.
Austin: Me too. I thought about it a lot after we watched that sad cartoon.
Me: What cartoon?
Austin: Canvas.
Me: Oh.
A very good short film. Very moving.
Me: Anyway, I’ve just thinking how much I love you and don’t want anything to happen to you.
Austin, very quickly: Me too. You’re my whole world.
Me: That sounded convincing.
Austin: Okay. You’re eighty percent of my world. Cassie takes up the other twenty percent.
I got out of the shower. Then I asked Austin what underwear I should wear. Remember, now that Austin is a Meundies fanatic, all of our underwear matches.
Austin: I don’t know if I’ll take a shower today.
Me: So? I want to know what underwear we’re going to wear today. Alligators, bees?
Austin: If I don’t shower, I won’t change my underwear. I’m just wear the same ones I’m wearing now.
THE HORROR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So this happened.
Austin, giving me a sideways glance: Is there anything you want to tell me?
This knife maker is named Rachel.
And this is our dog, Cassie. That bandana looks mighty familiar.
We had blue icing on an angel food cake. As Austin & I avoid icing, due to calories and fat, Cassie got all the icing. For the next couple of days, her poop was a brilliant shade of green.
Austin: Let’s save it and use it as finger paint.
Sorry, no pics of the poo. That would just be gross.
Since I’m working, Austin & I are sharing laundry duties. I separated the laundry into piles and Austin was switching it from washer to dryer, etc. After work, I took over and finished. As I was putting away my half of the laundry, I found of pair of Austin’s underwear mixed in with my clothes.]
Me, strutting into his room with said undies: Someone didn’t do a very good job of sorting the laundry after it was clean.
Austin: You did that. You did the blues. I know, ‘cause I was taking a nap and you put my pile of blues in the corner. The rest of my laundry was in that pile.
Me: I said someone.
My mother-in-law saw this decal and thought it looked like Cassie, so she got it for us. Austin was looking for a place to hang it.
Me: You seriously want to stick that on an appliance?
I used a magnet to hang it on the fridge.
Austin: You’ve got it up too high. If Cassie were in the fridge, it should be down here, as if Cassie were walking out of the fridge.
Me: No. It has to be like she’s busting out of the fridge. Besides, down there are the crisping drawers. She can’t bust out of those. It has to be aligned with the shelves.
Austin, moving it to the oven: Or we could put it here.
Me: Oh, come on. You’re going to get the ASPCA over here.
I was using the last of the sugar in the canister before emptying it out.
Me: This sugar down here is extra chunky. It’s probably been three years since I’ve washed this thing out.
Austin: It’s more flavorful and rich.
Me: Like aged wine?
Austin: Yeah. I think instead of washing it out, you should refill it. Then in another three years we can study the layers like geologists.
Said sugar canister. Every time it gets low, Austin just refills it. Unlike the trashcan, Austin is grossly aware of the sugar and doesn’t let it get even close to empty, so this was an effort to finally empty it out and get it washed.
Me: I think you shouldn’t boil those potatoes for so long.
Austin: You think a lot of things that don’t impact my life on a day-to-day basis.
