Mom's IM: recipe
Sarah's IM: (nothing, waiting)
Mom's IM: (nothing, although the bar at the bottom claims she's typing...)
Three minutes pass..
Sarah's IM: You have a recipe? Or you want a recipe?
Mom's IM: i have one for you.
Sarah's thoughts: What the hell did you type for three minutes?
Sarah waits for five minutes for an actual reply, for fear of interrupting the obviously complicated recipe-typing that's happening. She's loathe for the cycle to have to restart (again).
Mom's IM: marinade
Mom's IM: italian dressing you know? put it with chicken in a ziploc and let it sit for a while. overnight. then cook it. it's great!
Sarah's thoughts: Can that actually be considered a recipe? Isn't it more of a shopping list? Aren't there general rules to calling something an actual RECIPE? Like maybe: "Must be complicated enough to necessitate recording"? Something along those lines? AND WHY DID IT TAKE HER FIVE MINUTES TO TYPE MARINADE?
Sarah's IM: Oh, we'll have to try that. :)
I wanted to point out to y'all, things are feeling spectacular in the casa de us. After that silly drunken post on Friday, Bruce and I sat down and had a long talk about what we're planning on for the next year or so. I also realized that I've been avoiding talking to him about what's on my mind. It's a throwback to the days when I was incredibly insecure - I don't want to bring up a topic, for fear it'll be poo-pooed or thought stupid.
Don't worry, I'm poo-pooing myself as I type.
The thing is, I know it's idiotic. When I stop and think about things, I know that there's a snowball's chance in hell that Bruce will laugh at me. Problem being I don't actually think about it anymore. I spent so much time shutting up that I don't even think to speak when I should. Feel free to roll your eyes at me. I am.
The evil feline beast has been surprisingly lovely. Sure, his balls are coming in, and it's making him all crazy some times, but it seems like for the past few days, he's started to get used to the surges of testosterone. Either that or he's got mono. If so, yay for mono! He's so sweet when he's sleeping.
In a few months, he'll be blissfully balless, and we'll be blissfully free of the demon that hangs from the screen door like a zebra mussel - forever!