So J. and E. have commandeered my sewing room as their study room while I was going to school. This is fine, swell and dandy. However, it has been conclusively decided that I am a great distraction to them. Sitting quietly in the room reading is a distraction. Opening the door is a distraction. Walking in the hall is a distraction. In fact, the other day, I was sitting DOWNSTAIRS, in the Den, and I could hear them getting quite distracted indeed, followed by a bellowed “TT!! Stop DISTRACTING us!!!” Apparently, my mere presence in the house is enough to make all concentration breakdown. As they tell the story.
O. and I never seem to call each other by our real names. I think he started it, and I followed suit. At any rate, it’s gotten to the point that neither one of us blinked an eye when he walked in, patted me on the head, and said “Hello, cow.” To which I responded, “Hello, toad.” It occurs to me that most people would probably not think this is normal.
They probably would also not think it is normal the way he comes up and pokes me in the arm, saying “test, test.” I finally asked him what on earth he thought he was testing, and he responded, “Your blood pressure. If it’s low, you ignore me. If it’s high, you whack me.” Yea, verily. As scientific as they come.
Collectively, I call them all “George”. They all answer to it; it’s simpler. Collectively, they all call me a rule breaker, a bad influence, rude, and anything else that might get me indignant.
I have informed them that tomorrow I’m going to be doing haircuts, and I’m going to cut all their ears off. C.B. is looking forward to it; he suggests frying the ears and eating them with ice cream.
“C.B.! That’s disgusting!”
He was pleased.