(no subject)
It's tradition. I have to post cranky things while I'm up north for Christmass[1].
The drive up was horrid. It took an extra four hours, not counting the 15 minutes I spent in the ditch after I slid off the road at 30 mph. Some jackass drove by after I slid off and shouted "drive slower asshole" out of his window. I took a terrible joy in seeing his white F150 with the red go faster stripes sitting on its roof in the ditch a couple miles down the road. Terrible, terrible joy. It was not a good drive up. I was about 20 cars behind a 2 car 1 semi Ice Capades extravaganza an hour or so out of Madison, but I don't think anyone died. After I got pulled out of the ditch by the Two Cool Dudes With The Giant Truck who were doing a road trip and photojournal of all the people they were pulling out of the ditch, and passed the upside down semi and the sideside down semi and the double trailer Fedex truck in the ditch and the cop in the ditch, and finally got in touch with Dad on the phone to check weather conditions, I found out that the roads were better past Eau Claire, so I didn't cancel Christmas this year. Tempting, though.
So yeah, spent several hours trying to get in touch with my parents on the way up, nominally to find out what the road conditions were, but since I can do that in about 15 seconds from my pocket, really to find out how upset they would be if I skipped the hell slog drive for Christmas this year and just came up some time when the weather wasn't total ass of death. Pretty upset, as it turns out. Also, I couldn't get in touch with them because mom hasn't figured how to hang up a cordless phone yet so she just sets it down and lets it be busy all day, and hasn't figured out how to answer the cell phone I bought her. Seven standard deviations. What the hell, genetics.
I made it up in time to spent Christmas Eve with mom's side of the family. Walking on eggshells around them wasn't so bad this year; I'm in good practice. They're very Catholic social conservatives, and I try to not raise hackles, but they're starting to wonder why I've never brought a girlfriend to meet them. I don't kick puppies, either. Dad's side of the family didn't celebrate this year together, between an uncle's cancer, a cousin's broken spine and another cousin's stroke. Screw you, genetics. (Not for the broken spine.)
Anyway. I spent more time up here than I was entirely happy with; trapped in a house where the junk is packed so tight that there isn't a single place I can stand up, hold out my arms and turn around. It will be hard for me to go home and not throw out everything in my house. I don't know how my dad can stand it. He told me he gave up hope a long time ago, and just hides in him room. Coming home breaks my heart, but at least I got to show him how grub works.
I have so much more I could say; about how mom speaks in a strange randomized tonal language with no punctuation, about the flames and the stink from the refinery, about the boxes of unrefrigerated rotting vegetables in the basement, about meeting the girl next door again and the dreams that build up like facebook requests in my bed while I'm gone, but I'm about bittered out for the year.
The drive up was horrid. It took an extra four hours, not counting the 15 minutes I spent in the ditch after I slid off the road at 30 mph. Some jackass drove by after I slid off and shouted "drive slower asshole" out of his window. I took a terrible joy in seeing his white F150 with the red go faster stripes sitting on its roof in the ditch a couple miles down the road. Terrible, terrible joy. It was not a good drive up. I was about 20 cars behind a 2 car 1 semi Ice Capades extravaganza an hour or so out of Madison, but I don't think anyone died. After I got pulled out of the ditch by the Two Cool Dudes With The Giant Truck who were doing a road trip and photojournal of all the people they were pulling out of the ditch, and passed the upside down semi and the sideside down semi and the double trailer Fedex truck in the ditch and the cop in the ditch, and finally got in touch with Dad on the phone to check weather conditions, I found out that the roads were better past Eau Claire, so I didn't cancel Christmas this year. Tempting, though.
So yeah, spent several hours trying to get in touch with my parents on the way up, nominally to find out what the road conditions were, but since I can do that in about 15 seconds from my pocket, really to find out how upset they would be if I skipped the hell slog drive for Christmas this year and just came up some time when the weather wasn't total ass of death. Pretty upset, as it turns out. Also, I couldn't get in touch with them because mom hasn't figured how to hang up a cordless phone yet so she just sets it down and lets it be busy all day, and hasn't figured out how to answer the cell phone I bought her. Seven standard deviations. What the hell, genetics.
I made it up in time to spent Christmas Eve with mom's side of the family. Walking on eggshells around them wasn't so bad this year; I'm in good practice. They're very Catholic social conservatives, and I try to not raise hackles, but they're starting to wonder why I've never brought a girlfriend to meet them. I don't kick puppies, either. Dad's side of the family didn't celebrate this year together, between an uncle's cancer, a cousin's broken spine and another cousin's stroke. Screw you, genetics. (Not for the broken spine.)
Anyway. I spent more time up here than I was entirely happy with; trapped in a house where the junk is packed so tight that there isn't a single place I can stand up, hold out my arms and turn around. It will be hard for me to go home and not throw out everything in my house. I don't know how my dad can stand it. He told me he gave up hope a long time ago, and just hides in him room. Coming home breaks my heart, but at least I got to show him how grub works.
I have so much more I could say; about how mom speaks in a strange randomized tonal language with no punctuation, about the flames and the stink from the refinery, about the boxes of unrefrigerated rotting vegetables in the basement, about meeting the girl next door again and the dreams that build up like facebook requests in my bed while I'm gone, but I'm about bittered out for the year.