Saturday, March 20, 2010

The Sound of Silence

Actually, in my case silence sounds like Mickey Mouse the morning after a bender. I have a nasty cold and have lost my voice. I stubbornly continue to try to talk (squeak) and my family ignores me more than ever. I have resorted to clapping my hands and banging walls to get their attention. All I can say now is "Enjoy this little vacation. My voice won't be gone forever, folks."

Today was my school's carnival and of course I went to help out. Every time I opened my mouth to speak, people jumped back two feet. I needed a sign that said "It's not leprosy people, I just have no voice." The carnival was worth it to simply see Lily at the end: she was a carnival diva with face paint, nails done, tattoo, numerous little toys and candy, a purple balloon, two cakes and a bottle of pop. Next we went to the first birthday party for my friend's little boy. By the time she left there, she had icing and blue lollipop all over her face. If I'd taken a picture of her sleeping face on the drive home, it would have read "Childhood perfection." She has a birthday party to go to tomorrow as well. I wish I were five again.

I am currently in the middle of a silent pissing contest with my family. I am waiting to see who will notice that the trash can is over flowing and decide to change it. Periodically, I will engage in these little battles, but always loose. They have many forms, but only one outcome, I cave. Sometimes, it is the dramatic Scarlette O'Hara war, as in "As God as my witness, I will never pick up another dirty sock again!" Sometimes it is a life lesson. Case in point, the first month Rob and I lived together, he wouldn't fold or put his clothes away. In a fit a rage, I tipped the basket over and left the clothes in a heap in the middle of the room. For two weeks he picked his clothes out from the pile and I learned that he is more stubborn than me. I am more patient, though. Now I leave his clothes in the basket until it overflows and he gets so frustrated, he puts them away (really he's more grown up now and just does it). There's also the going on strike war. I stop doing what I usually do, the house falls apart and we lose something important like a bill or a project. Everyone ends up frustrated and pissed off.

I know that I'll take out the trash tomorrow. Tonight, though, I am just going to sit in silence.


Brooke G. said...

I jumped over from Betsy's blog and I am in hysterics over here over this post. First of all, sorry about the voice. I can ONLY imagine the frustration... ;(

The STRIKE - OMG - I totally do this and the outcomes are pretty much the same over here. At the moment I am refusing to put away and outfit that my hubby wore LAST WEEK and left hanging over the edge of our bathtub. I think he WANTS me to put it away or wash it - but I am refusing (this is a pet peeve of mine!) Good luck on your end! May the garbage find its way out :D

mooserbeans said...

Thanks for reading:) Of course I took the garbage out. My husband doesn't read my blog, but his dad does. When he told Rob about my going on strike, hiw respone was "really, the garbage needed to be taken out?" :)