icebluenothing

So last Friday I spent mostly a little edgy -- relaxing and reading, but mostly waiting for Cheryl and Bill to get back. Funny how after spending nearly a month with Cheryl, I was still just as anxious for her to show up as I was every Christmas Eve.

I felt like I really should have been spending the time writing, but I didn't honestly feel like it, and I was a guiltily relieved when I realized that the thunder I kept hearing off in the distance meant I probably shouldn't plug in my laptop.

I spent the afternoon re-reading Robert Heinlein's Friday instead. I'd read it years ago, but I couldn't really remember the plot; I was a little surprised to discover, this time around, that there really isn't one.

I also went out and did a little shopping and bought us a pizza -- since we hadn't talked about dinner plans, I assumed there weren't any, and that Cheryl and Bill would likely be too tired from the drive to make any. I was right; they were happy I had that taken care of, and they were thrilled with the work I had done on the yard while they were gone. Cheryl loved the path and the bamboo wall, and she squealed like a little girl when she saw the brick terrace. It was great.

Saturday morning we took the broken bricks in my truck to the dump. They told us when we got there that it would probably actually be cheaper to take them to a quarry instead, but Bill decided, to hell with it, we were already there. Throwing bricks willy-nilly into the dump was actually pretty funny. Since the dump charges by weight, we found out exactly how much had been in there -- two-thirds of a ton. Yes, I had moved two-thirds of a ton of bricks all by myself the day before. That revelation made me suddenly retroactively very tired.

When Bill and I got back and told this to Cheryl, she asked, "Wow! Is your truck rated to carry that much weight?" Uhh. Good question, isn't it?

Then we cleaned up and went to a relative's retirement party, mainly, I'll admit, because our parents would be there, and they expected us to attend. I'm not even sure what relation Judy is to me, but she had excellent food and an amazing yard. "It's like a park," my mom said to me at one point. "No," I replied, "parks aren't this nice."

Sunday, I packed up my belongings -- it felt strange to be dismantling my room, even if it was just a temporary home. retcon brought treebyleaf down, and we all enjoyed a lovely, leisurely lunch -- Cheryl made some rather excellent spaghetti, and I got to enjoy showing my best friends the work I'd done.

Then, north. treebyleaf accompanied me in the truck as I drove through awful, awful rain, the kind that bounces right back up off the freeway and creates a blinding haze. It was sunny, thankfully, by the time we got to my parents' house, where we stopped, chatted with them for a while over tea, and took their huge dead television off their hands with the promise that I'd dispose of it for them.

After that, back to Riff and treebyleaf's place for the usual Sunday festivities. I did a reading of my new story, and it was very well received.

Finally, treebyleaf and I went back to SIXBOX for the night, and then I truly was home.