It was 11:00 and I had the day off. I was putting it off, but…
Me: I’m going to have to brush my teeth here…
Austin: Well, don’t do it right here.
Me, swallowing my groan, go over to hug him.
Long, drawn out, lingering hug.
Me: I’m trying not to strangle you.
Austin: You’re not trying that hard, because it kind of hurts.
Since my house is paid off and was paid off before Austin moved in, I’ve never charged Austin rent, though it’s been an ongoing joke that I would start charging him rent. Only in the past year or so has Austin started sharing house insurance and house taxes with me.
Mom’s probate is ongoing, so I’m still dealing with lawyers, but my sense of humor is improving.
Me, handing Austin the monthly list of bills: The house taxes came today. If I hadn’t walked up to the post office, you wouldn’t have to pay house taxes this month.
Austin: I may still not have to pay it.
Me: Well, if that’s the case, I might have to start charging you rent. No, since you work from home now, it’s office space, so I’ll start charging you for commercial office space. And since you’re taking up more bandwidth, I’ll have to charge you more for internet, like a 60/40 split.
Austin: It’s a good thing you’ve still got that lawyer, because we’re going to have to put this in writing.
Sarah’s new thing is hanging out in Austin’s room. He keeps it like a sauna up there and Sarah is missing a lot of hair, so she loves to sneak (well, she’s blind, so she doesn’t sneak) into his room and sleep in front of the room heater. Being blind, she can’t make it up and down the stairs by herself, so Austin and I obligingly carry Miss Spoiled-Pants everywhere she goes.
This morning, I let her cry a full five minutes before I finally caved and toted her up the steps. But in the afternoon, Sarah was content to hang out with me. Two hours later, three hours later, still chilling in the living room without any interest in the illustrious sauna room with the magnificent space heater.
Me: Sarah has been sleeping all afternoon. No whimpering, no whining. I have no idea what’s up.
Austin: I peed on her rug. She doesn’t want to be in my room anymore.
Making banana ice cream. I tasted the base before putting it in the mixer. Delicious!
Me, texting Austin: Banana ice cream is the best tasting ice cream in the world.
A few seconds later, footsteps on the stairs.
Austin: Oh. I thought it was done.
One of the things that Austin got me for Christmas that had me gob-smacked was plastic ice cream containers. He in fact got me a Kitchen Aid stand mixer attachment for making ice cream, so not entirely out in left field, but here is our storage container cupboard:
Now, keeping this in mind.
Me: We have tons of storage containers.
Austin: These are special containers for ice cream.
Before I can object, Austin: They’re specifically for the freezer, to keep your ice cream at the perfect temperature.
Me: I knew you were going to say that.
Austin: Now that you have an ice cream maker, you’re going to want to want to experiment and you’re going to want to put them in the perfect container so we can enjoy the ice cream at the optimal temperature and texture.
Me: You do realize that ice cream manufacturers have been putting ice cream in cardboard containers for decades, right?
In case you’re interested, Amazon sells these so you too can have perfect ice cream containers:
Watching Call the Midwife, the Christmas special. A drug-addicted baby was born in the episode.
The doctor said: I’ve never seen anything like this before.
Austin: He hasn’t? This is season eleven. They’re having babies out of their ears now.
Me:That’s true. That line is a bit unbelievable.
