Wednesday, 7 January 2015

Velvet disease.

I had my little crow feast. It was disgusting. He grilled it bone-dry, burnt and twisted on the rack and I choked back every last bit until like me, the only thing left was a picked-over carcass.

I will spare you Lochlan's performance at the barbecue but it's safe to say he built me up and tore me back down. He got it all out. He vented at PJ and Ben and Batman too and then Caleb showed up and was promptly ushered out with excuses while Lochlan was tackled to the ground so he wouldn't go after him too. Let's just say it was about as pretty as the grocery store, but with a waterfront backdrop and it wasn't until I finished the meal that he was satisfied that I'd learned my lesson.

But Batman wasn't finished. Batman came back with a job offer. He told Loch he thought time with me was somewhat...sanctioned and then said he wanted to make things right and he doesn't intend to complicate things further. That set Loch back to yelling about how every single man here who wants to touch her complicating things and it took just about forever to settle him again.

And Caleb doesn't even know the details yet. Really, Lochlan's temper is nothing compared to what's coming.

And I think Loch might take the offer to work for Batman, personally, AKA Made up job. Nice paycheque. Very very little travel. This should be great. I give it five months like everything else. I asked Batman what he would be doing and Batman couldn't answer me because he probably doesn't know either so he said something like we can talk about it tomorrow. Come see me at ten because Batman doesn't like to get up early and I know this so I knew he would be home because I'm that evil.

But I'm not that evil and last night after I was done that terrible meal I was picked up and tickled into submission and that was Lochlan's playful cue that he is no longer really mad at me, that I am doing my best.

My best? No. I could do better but what I seem to do best is sabotage myself.


As it turns out too I have now managed to infect all four households with strep throat because I'm generous like that. Only the boys are big bearded babies when it comes to being sick and I just keep on going until I drop. They make little coughing noises and sprawl out on the couch, useless or clear their calendars and not even get out of bed. Matt is already feeling better. Sam is still coughing a fair bit but then again so is Ruth.

The only person well enough get anything done at this point is Christian and he showed up wearing a mask. Not a simple face mask like on airplanes, a full tactical gas mask with filter cartridges for biochemical warfare.

That might be overkill, I told him.

He shook his head. I read somewhere that the smallest things hold the most germs. So like pets...babies...Bridgets. 


You're the one who made the rounds. I'm here bored as fuck, minding my own business, the least you can do is shop local. 

Oh my fuck, Christian! You didn't just say that. 

Right. I didn't, actually. Carry on. (For the record, he wouldn't. He has standards that far exceed uh...any woman he's ever met, actually.)

If you don't mind, I'd rather not. I need to reel myself in here. 

Like a fish? 

Like a fish. 

Like a tiny little diseased fish you throw back. 

Yes, exactly. Or flush. We always flushed the sick ones. 

I don't think you'll fit. 

For once. Finally something I'm too big for. The toilet! We should go celebrate. 

Some bitch ate all the crow. The party's over, man. 

Ow. There's no love for me here at all tonight, is there?

No, you see, Missy? That's EXACTLY how you get into these messes in the first place!