Friday, April 17, 2009

Snow! Piss Off!

My Mom is coming to visit today.

She lives in Texas. Land of warmth and sun.

I live in Wyoming. Land of cold and snow.

Guess what Wyoming is up to today?

That’s right.

It’s snowing.

In fact, some would call it a snowstorm.

I am not amused.

This means that a lot of roads are closed. So far my Mom’s flight isn’t delayed but who knows if that will change?

Colorado decided to join Wyoming in the land of cold and snow and is currently going through its own snowstorm.

My response is this: it’s April, poor confused States. This means that the sun is supposed to be out. I understand that rain may occur and I’m cool with that. But snow? Harsh winds? I said goodbye to that when Winter ended.

I’m currently watching our local news for updates on the road closures. Right now it appears that I-25, which is what Mom needs to travel on to get here, has re-opened. But for how long? Mom’s flight doesn’t get in until 5. (Wait never mind. I-25 is closed.)

There are some irritating people from Wyoming who are actually excited about the snow. They’re on the local news right now going, “Well, we need the water!”

Um. NOT RIGHT NOW. Did you not get the memo that my MOM is coming?

Can’t any of these people curse at the cameras like I would have when asked how I felt about the latest snowstorm?

I’d have been all, “I’m livid. Because not only is my mother supposed to visit today but it also means that I now get to shovel my driveway on top of everything else I have to do. Right now the state of Wyoming deserves the middle finger.”

Of course they probably wouldn’t have even aired my segment because it wasn’t cheery like that lady who gushed, “Oh, I love the snow! It’s fantastic!”

I still think she had to have been drunk. She was swaying slightly. No one can possibly like snow that much unless it occurs on Christmas.

When I’m not griping about the weather, I’m darting around the house cleaning things so my mother doesn’t know that her only child has weird stains on her kitchen floor. I’ve been getting on my hands and knees so I can scrub them out.

I’ve also realized that I need to dust more because ew, the television had like an inch of dust on it.

I nearly left my bottle of KY Jelly on display for all to see. It was sitting on my night table and I quickly hid that. Mom doesn’t need to see that sort of thing. In her mind I’ve only had sex twice to conceive her precious grandchildren.

I also hid my thongs. Not that I wear them often because I’m sorry, they are not comfortable. It’s like having a wad of toilet paper stuck up your butt. I only wear them when I want something from my husband. It never fails to work. I just walk up to him and whisper, “I’m wearing a thong,” and he agrees to practically everything I ask.

But my Mom doesn’t need to know that I wear thongs to get what I want. I can imagine her coming across them and picking one up with her thumb and forefinger and saying something like, “Well. These are festive.”

It’s just best that they’re hidden.

So why is my Mom coming to visit? Well, to visit her only child and her grandchildren of course.

Oh, and because she’s totally babysitting said grandchildren while I go to the Mall of America for a few days next week.

I’m meeting up with my best friend Jennifer, who lives in Ohio.

I haven’t seen her in over two years. Of course I talk to her everyday. But it’s not the same. We both knew we had to see each other and we both agreed that the best place to have a reunion was the Mall of America.

I’d like to point out that we’ve been planning this for nearly a year now. This was before I bought the new car and before I had to Cut Back. Thankfully I had been setting money aside for my trip so I’m still good to go.

I’ll be leaving on Monday and returning on Thursday.

It is my first vacation away from the kids.

It’s going to be strange. I know I’m going to be tempted to reach over and cut Jennifer’s meat when we go out to dinner because I’m so used to slicing my children’s meals.

Jennifer would probably be all, “Um?” while I leaned over with my knife and fork poised to cut.

Then again, she might be leaning over my own plate, ready to do the same thing to MY meat.

Because we’re both mother’s after all.

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