Burn Baby Burn!

I have had absolutely no time to blog this week and that just sucks. This is my outlet, dammit. I did the whole parental thing on Sunday and Monday. Both trips were fine...I was actually rather proud of my trip-planning. In Chicago the p's enjoyed an informative museum visit and then were wisked via cab to a fabulous Armenian restaurant for lunch. They then strolled a block or 2 down to WaterTower for some shopping time whilst I did my beauty spa thing at the Parke Hyatte. Geez, I sound rich. No, it just pays to have a lot of gay friends...I don't know if this is true everywhere, but the gay friends I have know where all of the good restaurants are and where to get the best *spa* treatments! All in all it was quality time with the p's without the usual stress. YEAH.

Needless to say, the remainder of the week did not go as well. I did my usual *laundry thing* on Wednesday evening and much to my horror there were 2 women sitting in *chez laundry* playing cards and SMOKING. INSIDE. Now smoker-folks out there don't get all mad...I was once an on and off smoker so I am not against the habit completely. What I am getting at is that I was paying $10 to do laundry that was going to smell like I stored it in a bar. What is the point? (Ode to my washer/dryer in storage: I miss you guys...soon we'll be together again!) I realized as one of the women sauntered by me, cigarette in hand, that they were the same women who had the trailier park slinky clothes a week or so before (see previous post). Rather than risk getting the crap kicked out of me, I didn't say anything to them about the smoking. Actually, I am quite a wimp sometimes, despite that I am a mature, successful 40 year old. Instead I phoned the *MANAGEMENT OFFICE* of the Motel 6 to *discuss an issue*. I crack myself up. At least Stephanie was a sympathetic ear to my laundry plight. No doubt they will post a security guard at the chez laundry entrance as a result. Further on laundry night, H had a complete meltdown re the house project. It was in the making...but def. not the night for me to stroll into battle. He ended up sleeping on the couch after proclaiming "I don't care if we live in a trailer...I don't give a s*** about the house!" Ok, so I was picturing myself hanging my slinky nighties from WalMart in chez laundry at age 55. Luckily and much to my surprise, I kept my mouth shut and just went to bed. I must be getting old...I have some sense of timing and I don't just say what I think...like, for instance, "Why the hell are we building this house?" H revcovered and apologized in the morning. He knows he has taken on too much but he will never admit it to me. Well, if nothing else, the laundry room will be paradise.