If Anyone Needs Me I'll be Under the Table

Take it from Hula that extra second or two that it takes to double check the phone number you’re texting is worth it.

Last night Teen Angel was on a date. I texted her , telling her to alert me when she was on her way home so I could put on more clothing before she and the new beau came into the house. I did this because back in March she brought the last boyfriend into the house unexpectedly one night when I was in my pajamas, and I spent thirty minutes in conversation with the boy with an open book slapped across my chest so he wouldn’t realize that underwear is not always a priority in our home.

When my phone dinged with a reply last night, I clicked on it to find, to my horror, a message from the youth minister at church letting me know that I had sent HIM the message about the clothing, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t meant for him. Apparently, he had sent me a message about bible school earlier, and I had opened it up without realizing it when I was composing the underwear note to Teen Angel. Great Gertie! My face hasn’t been that red since that unfortunate Playgirl pinup in the locker incident my senior year of high school.

While the youth minister jokingly threatened to work this into an upcoming sermon, all I could think was that if that dadgum Eve had just eaten something ANYTHING other than an apple this clothing thing would not be an issue.

I Know We're Going to be Okay Because We Can Laugh About This Stuff

We are in the midst of sorting through Sissy’s belongings and preparing her house for auction. To say she had a lot of stuff is like saying the Pope wears a funny looking hat. We have 3000 square feet of house to empty, and we’d like to get it done so it’s not hanging over our heads all summer and we can move forward in our grief. Hubby, me and Teen Angel sort through a box at a time when we’re at the house feeding Sissy’s cat, and we worked in the garage this past weekend. Teen Angel and Hubby’s sister worked there today and yesterday. Because Mama J. is the executrix of the estate, she is in charge of making decisions about what stays, what gets sold and what gets thrown away. She sits on the fold down chair of her walker and supervises the work. It took her a while to work up the energy to get started on this project, but she finally waded in with a toe or two last week. But it’s slow moving because she wants to save everything. EVERYTHING. And when I say everything, I mean stuff that no one is going to use (ie...old soap) or want to buy at an auction. Yesterday, she put a box of tampons in a “sale” box. Teen Angel yanked them out and very nicely explained to Mama J. why an auctioneer will not want to hold up a box of feminine hygiene products for bids. Mama J. seemed confused and moved on to the half used cosmetics.

The work continued today, and this afternoon I received some texts from Teen Angel describing the lack of progress and Mama J.’s unwillingness to turn loose of anything. Before you read it, you should know two things. One-Sophie is my niece’s three year old daughter. Two-Mama J. often confuses the purpose of particular items or the names of things and places. Like the time she wrote “straight penis” on her grocery list instead of “straight pins”. Anyway, the texts gave me the best chuckle I’d had all day and let me know that we really are going to get through this because we can laugh about it.

Hula-“Try to be patient.”
Teen Angel-“That’s the operative word. The point of this is 2 eliminate junk not keep EVERYTHING. Nobody wants half this stuff and can I just say Sophie does not need used earrings to wear as toe rings.”
Hula-“Does she need some tampons to play with?”
Teen Angel-“Exactly what I was going to say!"

Hee hee. It’s going to be a long summer.