Karen here. I am here to regretfully inform you all that the last bit of my mother's remaining sanity has died. At 10:05 PM, after an extremely emotionally taxing day, which in turn had followed weeks of sleep deprivation and ridiculously (and even MORE emotionally taxing) busy days, it went went down with a fight...or at least, a few memorable last words.
(we are sitting quietly in the living room. Suddenly, mom speaks.)
Mom: "I need doctor pepper to make it through the night."
Me: "You know maybe you should try this novel idea called 'sleep.' Its where you actually lapse into this thing called unconsciousness."
Mom: "I tried that, and then this fly tries to land on my face. And then I wake up doing ninja crap."
(some laughs from Screamapillar and myself, then mom continues.)
"Seriously, and then I'll be like OUT of the chair going, 'Aaaaahhhh flyyyyy!' But then I got it later. I smacked with magazine and ended its life. A rolled up magazine is an excellent ninja tool. Better than nun-chucks cuz then you don't hurt yourself. *a moment's pause* also excellent for smacking unruly teenagers."
(at this point, I have shared this via chat with my online Stalkee, who is very amused and declares that she is going to move in with us.)
Mom: "I'm cool. She gets to do the dishes."
(Stalkee says that she like doing the dishes, but sometimes has problems with an allergic reaction to the soap.)
"She can use any soap she wants. She could even use the DISHWASHER, which people in this house haven't figured out yet. They just put stuff in there and never take it out again."
(Mom then proceeds to offer her some "really keen rubber gloves and [her] own apron.")
Mom: "It would be awesome apron. With gold lame´ and pom-poms. Maybe some rhinestones..."
Stalkee: I am excited for the pimped out apron and my gangsta gloves.
(Mom goes quiet for a minute, and has suddenly developed a completely blank, phased out look on her face. I comment on it.)
Mom: "I'm staring at the spot between the telescope and the window. Because if I look anywhere else, I will feel obligated to clean something. So I look somewhere that's already clean. And then I don't have to do anything. The celing is generally a safe place too look…except when there's spiders…. *pause* And tape, left over from streamers from a a party."
(Stalkee then inquires if she shall receive a Swiffer to go with her pimped apron and gangsta gloves.)
Mom: "Tell her we have a vacuumable Swiffer that attaches to the vacuum. It's yellow and she may call it Swiffer if she wants to. And we'll have a fashion show."
(goes quiet for another minute)
Mom: "I have a deep abiding desire for Dr Pepper…I also have equally ardent amount of ennui."
(Screamapillar then asks for a story.)
Mom: "You need a bed time story? So you'll go to bed? Once upon a time there was this little girl and she was really frikking annoying so her brother and sister taught her to say "I'm so annoying," and then that was even more annoying and they regretted that they ever taught her such a thing." Note: this is a true story that Thing 2 and I taught Screamapillar to do as a baby.
Screamapillar: "You've lost it."
Mom: "No! *is determined and very intense* I found it!"
"But I'm not sure what it is."
Finally, we shall end with this:
"This is all going on the blog, you know."
"There is no blog. only Zuul."