Hell Hath No Fury....

Anna hates me because I expect her to do her schoolwork so she can graduate from high school some day. She started throwing her books around the dining room yesterday just to show me how much she hated me, so I ignored her (as did the rest of the family, all of whom know the drill by now). Unfortunately, no one had briefed David's very sweet little friend Chuck, who I noticed - a few minutes into the episode - standing in the kitchen, clutching his comic books to his chest, eyes darting frantically as he tried to gauge his chances of escaping via the front door. No doubt the studied nonchalance of the rest of us in the face of obvious danger added to his confusion. The look on his face was indescribable (where is that camera when I need it?). I sure hope his mother lets him come back.

Theo, naturally, was glad he had just packed up his stuff for a Boy Scout canoe trip. There's only so much drama one teenage guy can take.

I visited 3 grocery stores today, plus the Farmers' Market. I don't know why that was necessary, but I can rest assured now that I won't have to buy any food for at least 48 hours. Then I decided to take a well-deserved nap. It was one of those delicious, mid-afternoon naps with the sun streaming through the open windows and the ceiling fan whirring away above me. Apparently, I looked too comfortable; so Larry woke me up to inform me that he was going to go to the office for a couple of hours. He could have just left. If someone needed me, they would have screamed loud enough to wake me, I'm sure. So, I hate him. He tried to make up for this gross error in judgment by agreeing to meet me and the kids for pizza at dinner time; but then he stood me up. The waitress kept looking at me funny, because I had requested a separate table for me and Larry, and of course I was the only one sitting there. With my imaginary date. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to order the food without waiting for him. By the time we were almost finished with the pizza, I had made up my mind that nothing less than a flat tire or a car accident could have kept him from joining his beloved (um, that's me) at Pizza Hut. At just that point, he sailed in. "Sorry I'm late," he said breezily, grabbing a slice of pepperoni and apparently dodging the death darts emanating from my eyes. Sorry? Sorry? With no accompanying tale of a close brush with death? No explanation involving rescuing poor innocents from a burning building, say? You know, he's shown himself capable over the years of fitting the clueless-male stereotype from time to time; but today, he outdid himself. If I told him right now that I'm still pissed off, he'd have no idea what the heck I was even talking about. That's sort of cute, in a guy sort of way. But he still owes me chocolate. Twice.