Sunday, March 9, 2014

To Nap, Perchance To Dream...Of A Long White Ratty Monster Wrapping Itself Around My Neck, Choking The Very Life Out Of Me

Shh...this is classified information. Don't spread it around. Last week, I dropped by my mom's house after school to wait out The Pony's Smartypants competition. He didn't really want me to go watch, since it is rare that parents show up for these things at the high school level. Farmer H goes, but I think The Pony is confident that his abilities outshine those of his father in this area, so his presence does not make him nervous.

Farmer H was gone on a business trip down south, but was expecting to be back by evening. He had plans to drop in at the college of the #1 son for supper, then head back to Hillmomba. While I was at my mom's house, Farmer H called and said he was ahead of schedule, so he would drop in on The Pony's contest, and bring him home. That left me chillin' at Mom's Couch and Supper Establishment.

When neither of my boys is visiting, I am the next best thing for Mom to wait on. She even let me park in her driveway! Granted, the whole width of gravel was exposed, with just a bit at the very top and bottom covered by unmelted slush. We had been planning my little visit for two whole days. It was like having reservations at a grand spa.

Mom asked what I would like to eat. She had chicken strips already cooling in her toaster oven. In addition, she had tossed a piece of garlic toast and some frozen crab rangoons into her regular oven. THEN she offered me Baked Lays cheesy chips. That every food on my plate was the same color was of no concern to me. I sampled each one, though the chips tasted like cardboard. Aged, stale cardboard. Perhaps it would have behooved me to check the expiration date, even though Mom opened the bag in front of me. She wanted to give me a brownie, baked that very day, but I was full, and besides, it was a different color.

I decided to lay down on Mom's long couch to rest my weary feet. She gathered a blanket hand-made by my niece, and tucked it around my feet. She tried to give me five throw pillows, but I drew the line at three. She grabbed the remote to change channels when I wanted, and even got her other remote to adjust volume for me. Plus, Mom did not sit in her new recliner, but on the short couch under the window, where she was in my sight line next to the TV. We had a wonderful visit, full of outrageous workplace tales and laughter.

It was the moment prior to my couch-mounting that was a bit dicey. I laid one puffy square pillow against the armrest. Then staggered another. As I was readying the rectangular pillow for placement, the corner of it caught on something on the back of the couch. Something white. Tattered. I could not disengage the pillow corner from it. I had to reach over and pick it loose, and replace it on the couch back. IT WAS A TATTERED BRA!

"Um. Mom? I'm not sure I want this thing to wrap around my neck while I'm laying here on the couch."

"Oh! I forgot that was there. I AM wearing one. This is my old one, for lounging around the house. Here. I'll get that out of the way."

"That's okay. I have one like that myself, only tan. I just don't lay it on the back of the couch."

"Well, you know how it is. I usually don't have company."

Yeah. I'm not really company. Just pampered family.


Sioux said...

Your mother wears a bra when she's puttering around the house?

Moi? Non. I run around sans brassiere when I'm at home.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

This happens when you aren't used to company ..... I take mine off in the kitchen sometimes and leave it on the table, or a chair. I once found the cat nestled in it on my chair.

Hillbilly Mom said...

You, Madam, are approaching the TMI barrier. You must be flippin' and floppin', like a naked innocent gal rrroamin' the countryside. I hope you at least have a thin layer of gabardine between you and your best friends, the horse-faced guy with big teeth and flared nostrils, and Humpty Dumpty with a melon head.

Mom never knows when somebody might put a bag of hedgeapples on her porch, or shovel a path down the driveway, or leave a cinnamon roll wrapped in foil just inside her outer door. Yes. She straps one on.

You should have blogged a picture of the cat.

I think Mom took it off when she changed into her Town Bra, and tossed it on the couch back to don later.