Henry was sick or something last night and went to bed early, leaving Chooch and me to put ourselves to bed later on in the night. In the morning, I called Henry on my walk to the trolley and he said, “Oh, and just so you know, when I got up for work this morning, the lights were on, the TV was on, the window was open, and the front door was open. Not just unlocked, but OPEN. What the fuck, did you and Chooch decide it was ready for bed and just run away?”
I started doing that throaty laugh that I do when I’m guilty. I had a vague recollection of just not caring to turn everything off and shut the door, because who can be bothered with things like that. “Well, Chooch was the last one down there!” I cried in defense.
“Oh that’s great. Leave it up to the 8-year-old to lock up,” Henry sighed before asking me if I had left for work yet. “It sounds quiet out there. Usually there are all kinds of tragic things happening to you while you’re walking.” (YOU GUYS DON’T KNOW HOW TRAUMATIC IT IS TO WALK TO THE TROLLEY, OK?! THINGS HAPPEN TO ME.)
“Well, I did almost just get kidnapped,” I said.
“What? How?” Henry asked, not sounding concerned like I had hoped, but mostly just amused.
“A van just drove past me. You never know.”
After work, Henry was giving me dirty looks for simply taking a drink from a large bottle of water. Apparently, I “guzzle” it like I’m “in the desert” and this is “annoying.”
“What?!” I cried. “I bought this all on my own before I got on the trolley this morning,” I added, trying to change the subject to one of my few accomplishments in life.
“Wow. That’s amazing. Maybe next you’ll learn how to shut the door and turn everything off before you go to bed,” Henry patronized.
God, when will he stop trying to change me!?
Henry just now lectured Chooch and I together on the “shutting down for bed” procedure and we are cracking the FUCK UP.
“Yeah, you’ll be laughing when you come downstairs in the morning and a crackhead is sitting on the couch,” Henry yelled before telling Chooch to always make sure the door is locked and the lights are off, since Henry can’t rely on me I guess.
Henry is like OBSESSED with “turning things off” and “locking the door.”