The mouse will play
"I like the word 'indolence.' It makes my laziness seem classy." ~Bern Williams
When Mel moved in, she promised furniture including a glorious wine rack and table combo. She delivered exceptionally as that was pretty much the selling point for her. It also helps that if I were to ever find myself stranded in Hawaii, I’d have a free place to stay.
As she mentioned the wine rack, my eyes lit up with anticipation, because she doesn’t drink. Not a sip. Something about enzymes or another. To which I replied, that I only drink occasionally. And only wine, as I’m sort of an oneophile. The first night she slept here, I drank an entire bottle of yellowtail while telling her about the price of shots in Salamanca. Poor girl didn’t realize that I have the capability to be completely full of shit, especially when I come in Wednesday through Saturday, having enjoyed my share of an open bar. My feelings on that are as follows: It’s free and someone has already paid for it. Why let all that delicious Ketel One go to waste?
The other day she said that she would be going to Texas for a few days. My heart skipped a beat though I doubt I let it show. I said “oh ok” while envisioning walking around the apartment in my Calvin Klein’s and eating everything and not putting the dishes in the dishwasher. I had to keep myself from clicking my heels and confessing my plans to party up and be irresponsible with housekeeping for four. whole. days. It’s like my mom was going away and I had free reign to turn the living room into a disaster area and not get the stink eye for being and indolent lush. It's like the woman of the house is away and I, the man, can, do as I please without the old woman being all up in my shit.
For the past three days I have consumed crustini and gouda for breakfast and as a quick hors d’ouevre. After that I went straight for the bottle of wine and the egg rolls. And tonight I’ve gone to a new low: Rum and diet coke and a bagel pizza with some peas on the side.
My laundry is strewn through out the apartment and I can watch House without her covering her eyes and saying ‘ewww’. My bras are hanging on the back of the front door, the bathroom door handle and the outside of my bedroom.
I feel like such a fucking rebel. Tomorrow I’m going to watch Sports Center all day and polish off my case of Yeungling. I’ll just be sure to hide the bottles so mom doesn’t find out.