Today at work, the mail guy wished me a happy Easter and I was like, “HAHA ok weirdo” but then I said, “Wait—when’s Easter?” and three people at once were like, “Uh, it’s this Sunday, dumbass.”
Why can’t Easter just be at the same time each year?! I can never keep tabs on it. I’m either too soon, like the time I had an Easter egg dyeing party nearly a month before Easter and none of my friends thought it was strange because they’re used to me not having a clue.
Or it creeps on me unexpectedly like this year. I feel like I knew last weekend at one point that it was soon but then I managed to forget once the week started.
My point is that I didn’t take any Easter pictures of Chooch yet and now I’m not sure if I’ll have time and I’m sad about that. And timehop is all super casually reminding me of past Easter portraits and I’m just like, “Suck a dick, Timehop.” It’s always nagging me to look at my past when everyone else is telling me to stop living there and I feel so conflicted.
Maybe I’ll just go commercial and stick him on some mall bunny’s lap.
In other Easter-y news, Chooch is on spring break which I always feel should come after Easter but whatever. Judy has been watching him which is fine but with that comes some necessary tweaks in my routine. For instance, when she’s here, I can’t watch Running Man. We tried to watch it with her on Monday and she was open to it, but then she kept wanting to have non-Korean conversations and I was like I’m TRYING to watch RUNNING MAN.
“Yeah but it’s not like you need to listen to it,” Glenn muttered when I complained about this today.
“I LIKE TO HEAR THE BEAUTIFUL SOUNDS OF THEIR LANGUAGE,” I shouted back at him. God!
And then she washes our dishes and I really appreciate that but she doesn’t actually wash them, if you know what I mean. I pulled a spoon out of the strainer and it still had peanut butter on it, so I basically just dumped everything back into the sink.
Glenn’s advice was to just reuse that spoon for peanut butter and I almost puked.
My favorite thing about having her here though is listening to her and Chooch bicker like the Odd Couple. (The Odd Couple?! Hi, I’m an 80-year-old.)
For instance, last night, I wanted to light a candle in my room but didn’t have a lighter so I did what any parent would do and summonded my kid to go play fetch.
Immediately, there was a verbal scuffle between those two downstairs. Judy was trying to tell Chooch that there was a lighter in the kitchen but he apparently ignored her advice and took his search elsewhere so she kept yelling at him to check the kitchen and finally he was like GRANDMA I KNOW, THAT ONE DOESNT WORK to which she outmatched his volume with her retaliation of WELL YOU DIDNT SAY YOU NEEDED ONE WITH FLUID.
Anyway, Chooch found the lighter he was looking for (there are a lot less lighters in the house when no one is a smoker, that’s for sure) and brought it to me like a happy puppy.
Except that the candle’s wick was down too far and neither of us could fit our meatfists down in there. I figured this was a grand time to teach Chooch my trick, and as he watched me rip up a piece of paper and light it on fire, he began to object but it was too late: I had already dropped the fiery paper into the candle jar, failing in lighting the wick but succeeding in filling my bedroom with smoke.
Luckily, chooch had removed the smoke detector THAT SAME DAY because Judy burnt a veggie burger and set the alarm off and neither of them knew how to turn it off so chooch removed it from the ceiling and apparently wanted to bash it to death but then Judy took it off him and calmly removed the batteries.
Don’t worry, Henry will put it back.
Meanwhile, Henry was trying to sleep but apparently the act of his lungs filling with smoke woke him up and HOO BOY was he pissed when he saw us standing there, Chooch with a lighter in his hand, me with my PYROMANIAC cape on, with a smoking Yankee Candle knock-off between us.
This has absolutely nothing to do with Easter, but there you go.