Ah, Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Unless, I have to visit with my mother. This year because she helped me out with my car problems when I visited I promised to come for Christmas and stay longer than a few hours. Spending the night was about all I could stand. We brought the dogs which was it's own horror story as both of them had bowel problems. I do know that when I arrived home on Sunday night, I was spent.
But this story is about my sister's boyfriend. The've been dating for at least a decade at this point and he is not well loved by my mother and older sister. They've got in their heads that he is cheap and won't pay for anything. Highly untrue, but let's not let the facts get in the way. Consequently, the boyfriend is always on his best behavior. And he's not the most forthright guy to begin with which has to be hard when surrounded by a vocal bossy bunch like my family.
We are in the living room opening presents surrounded by the mountain of fragile objects d'arte my mother has accumulated. It's a minefield and the boyfriend tripped one of the mines. He swiveled the chair he was in. There was a small table right behind the chair making it impossible to swivel the chair without striking the table. On the table was a tall slender Belleek Vase, very top heavy. Chair swivels. Vase falls. Vase breaks. Could have happened to anybody sitting in that particular chair. It was unfortunate that the chair occupant was the least liked person in the house. Fortunately, the vase was only broken in two pieces. My sister put the two pieces together and attempted to put them back on the table as if that had fixed the problem. I told her to put it away until we could fix it. She looked at me like I was talking gibberish but did it anyway. My mother called for the caregiver to come fix the vase. Now, I haven't read the caregiver's handbook, but I don't think Vase repair is one of her duties. But the caregiver is a saint and how she hasn't shoved a knife in my mother's back, I don't know. The caregiver takes the vase pieces away.
Sunday morning I go to Home Depot to get some paint supplies for my own project. I buy some superglue as well to fix the vase. Upon returning home, I get the pieces from the Caregiver and fix the vase. No big deal. All is right with the world. The caregiver thinks I'm a miracle worker. The boyfriend can come back to the house.
As the tQ and I prepare to leave, Havoc and Mayhem start racing around with joy at the thought of departing this place. Dani is particularly frantic leaping and jumping. Naturally, she hits the small table that is next to a certain swivel chair. The vase falls again..... For whatever reason, this time the vase does not break. I place the vase back on the table before anyone notices and we quickly race away.
But this story is about my sister's boyfriend. The've been dating for at least a decade at this point and he is not well loved by my mother and older sister. They've got in their heads that he is cheap and won't pay for anything. Highly untrue, but let's not let the facts get in the way. Consequently, the boyfriend is always on his best behavior. And he's not the most forthright guy to begin with which has to be hard when surrounded by a vocal bossy bunch like my family.
We are in the living room opening presents surrounded by the mountain of fragile objects d'arte my mother has accumulated. It's a minefield and the boyfriend tripped one of the mines. He swiveled the chair he was in. There was a small table right behind the chair making it impossible to swivel the chair without striking the table. On the table was a tall slender Belleek Vase, very top heavy. Chair swivels. Vase falls. Vase breaks. Could have happened to anybody sitting in that particular chair. It was unfortunate that the chair occupant was the least liked person in the house. Fortunately, the vase was only broken in two pieces. My sister put the two pieces together and attempted to put them back on the table as if that had fixed the problem. I told her to put it away until we could fix it. She looked at me like I was talking gibberish but did it anyway. My mother called for the caregiver to come fix the vase. Now, I haven't read the caregiver's handbook, but I don't think Vase repair is one of her duties. But the caregiver is a saint and how she hasn't shoved a knife in my mother's back, I don't know. The caregiver takes the vase pieces away.
Sunday morning I go to Home Depot to get some paint supplies for my own project. I buy some superglue as well to fix the vase. Upon returning home, I get the pieces from the Caregiver and fix the vase. No big deal. All is right with the world. The caregiver thinks I'm a miracle worker. The boyfriend can come back to the house.
As the tQ and I prepare to leave, Havoc and Mayhem start racing around with joy at the thought of departing this place. Dani is particularly frantic leaping and jumping. Naturally, she hits the small table that is next to a certain swivel chair. The vase falls again..... For whatever reason, this time the vase does not break. I place the vase back on the table before anyone notices and we quickly race away.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm