I lose everything--gifts, treasures, I am a nightmare to shop for. I've managed to cling to four pieces of jewelry she's given me, and that's a record. I'm so very grateful.
So that's one little thing.
The other little thing is that I spent much of my day in the car. Dropped Mate off at Intel so he could catch a company flight to Portland at 5:15 in the morning, came home, cat-napped, took ZoomBoy to school, came home, helped Squish get ready, dropped her off at school, took the dogs walking, came home, cat napped, went to aqua, picked up kids, came home, NAPPED FOR REAL, got up, worked, and then went to pick Mate up and, yeah, get takeout for dinner, because no. I wasn't cooking.
Anyway, Mate's work consists of seven large buildings, labeled FM 1--7.
Tonight, as I was driving the unfamiliar route to FM 7 (he's usually in FM5) I started counting off.
FM 1, FM 2, FM 3...
Got to pick Mate up and when he hopped in the car he said, "You found it!"
"Yup! Fuck Me 7!"
He shot me the look of a man who realized at 4:30 a.m. that in order to make his 5:15 flight he had to drive like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction to get his ID out of the car he loaned his daughter.
A hunted look.
A, "For Christ's sake, woman, are you kidding me?" look.
"It stands for Folsom," he said, sounding dazed.
I laughed maniacally. I was in that car as he was being Bat-Out-of-Hell Man. "I have sadly neglected your education," I said.
"Folsom. Module."
"Fuck me 1, fuck me 2, fuck me 3--"
"Folsom."
"If you want to keep thinking that, I understand."
Poor guy. I cackled like a loon all the way to the drive-thru.
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