I Want My Money Back

To put it mildly, this summer is not living up to my expectations.  So far, I have: not been invited to a funeral to which I should have been invited, been invited to a funeral to which I probably should not have been invited, and alienated my mother-in-law to the point that she is probably wishing she could attend my funeral very soon.

In the meantime, I am fighting a lonely battle against the combined strength of conspicuous consumption and the ridiculous reluctance to relinquish rather redundant refuse.  I have nightmares that our world is one giant landfill and that everyone but me has developed the gills necessary to peacefully swim through the detritus.

To top it all off, Mayor Bloomberg wants to ban Big Gulps.

Granted, I don’t live in New York City.  And I don’t drink sugary sodas.  But, I liked Mayor Bloomberg until he went off the reservation with this one.  And, now I’m beginning to question my own judgement.  Which is a big ole slippery slope – with a bunch of jagged rocks – down which I do not want to slide on my tender butt.

So, basically, this has been an unpredictable, uncontrollable summer.  And not in any kind of a good way.

If it didn’t mean having to get up early in the morning, I would declare myself ready to return to work.  At least, in my classroom, my students let me pretend that I have some control.  And, as we have already established, they do not question my judgement – because they assume I have none.

On the good side, our new furniture has made it over a month without being chewed up by Wonderbutt.  And Dimples and I are reading a super awesome book together that hopefully won’t have any embarrassingly racy sections that I will have to read out loud.  (I will tell you the name of the book once we finish and I can give you a full review.)  And, I’ve written 4 very short chapters of my own novel, which will not feature Wonderbutt or Dimples or Mayor Bloomberg.  Or my mother-in-law.  At least not in any recognizable form.

But I might throw in some Big Gulps just to be ornery.

Soda Ban?! Photo Credit: Newsday/Walt Handelsman

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Posted on June 21, 2012, in Annoyances, Family, Humor and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 35 Comments.

  1. OK – I do hear you on Bloomberg. Just a little strange. But what I really want to know is – who gets ‘invited’ to a funeral? Serious question, honest.

    • When the main mourner sends you an e-mail with the funeral information, it seems kind of like an obligation to attend, I guess. I’m not really sure about the whole funeral etiquette thing.

  2. Are you going to post the novel?

  3. I’m sorry you’ve had multiple funerals.
    I say pack Dimples off to a friends house for an overnight and just take a day or two for yourself.
    Plus, Harvard soon!

  4. 🙂 I do hope the book you are reading does have racy parts – I like stories about fast cars 🙂

  5. I want to know, too, who gets an invitation to a funeral? “Please attend. There will be food and sad stories and lots of cute black dresses. RSVP.” I was shamed by a friend into attending a funeral once under the guise that it was dutiful. Talk about pathetic! Me, I mean, for succumbing and feeling like legs on a fish. I’m with you on the other stuff, too. When my mother-in-law was alive, she daily wished I’d croak in a most hideous fashion…sigh. Ain’t life grand?

    • Well, I got an e-mail about the funeral arrangements from the daughter of the man who died. So, that felt kind of like an invitation. I would prefer one like the one you described, though – with maybe some confetti in the envelope or something.

  6. Uh oh on the MIL front. That’s probably not a good sign. And, I am with you on the Big Gulp news. He is on a tangent right now.

  7. I don’t know anything about Mayor Bloomberg or his Big Gulp so will not comment..but I am sorry that everything else has gone so wrong…tell you what! You can come to my funeral and have a great time, big party, jazz band …the works. There is no quiet departure for this old bird.
    In the meantime SMILE…it may not change your circumstances but it sure makes you feel better:-)) xxxxxxx love n hugs

  8. I am so there. My dad died this summer. I had to drop all my college classes, which means I’ll have to pay for nine hours out of my own pocket before I can get any more grants. The funeral used up all of dad’s insurance money, so no money for me to live on and I’ve had to start looking for a job in a recession. I think it’s been a helluva summer for a lot of people. I’m hoping it gets better, though, for you and for me.

  9. Ginger says, throw Bloomberg into a vat of Big Gulp…. heheheh Great post!

  10. Chancy and Mumsy

    Sure hope your summer gets better and things get patched up with your MIL. It is good to hear that Wonderbutt has been good and not chewed the new furniture and you and Dimples are enjoying a good book. Hugs

  11. Maybe you needed all of that angst to throw into writing a book. Stay on the bright side. There’s a reason for everything. We just don’t always see it. Good luck. The summer isn’t over yet. And I’m dying to hear what book you’re reading. And writing. 🙂

  12. You are having a bit of a crazy summer! Warring against the MIL’s lack of organization would be exhausting on it’s own.
    Love that you and Dimples are reading a book together, can’t wait to hear all about it! Way to go with getting 4 chapters written up!! And hope your summer improves much as it goes on. 🙂

  13. Things will get better. Or at least hotter.

  14. I hope your summer gets better. Maybe the book will make it better.

  15. Congrats on your writing! Good for you!

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