I begin accosting Ron every 15 minutes with earthquakes. An earthquake is a time-honored tradition in my family of attack sleeping family members and shaking the bed yelling ‘Earthquake! Earthquake!’ I knew he was in REM sleep because I could hear his teeth grinding from the other room. I also started streaming some hard trance music – though sometimes that makes him sleepier.
Eventually some well-placed guilt and the thought that I was going to go workout without him did the trick. Having him shower here was a good idea. He had to go home and get gym clothes and probably would have ended up laying down and falling asleep again.
He just called – he’s on his way out in 10 minutes. In Ron-time that 20 minutes plus the 15 minutes to get his morning coffee. Yes, I was forcing him up and out without his morning coffee. He’s like mom in that he has to have diesel fuel to wake up in the morning.
Mom and dad and Heather are on their way to the beach. We fly in tomorrow afternoon to Tallahassee and then drive the 2 hours in. We’ll see how Ron does with a quiet retreat-like vacation. He keeps asking if there’s malls or gay bars or movie theatres or walkways or places to rollerblade. I think he’ll either relax and have a good time or be pent up with shopping rage.
My old company will not be bringing me back as a contractor anytime soon which is probably good for both of us. I have listed with some temp places and am going to get back on the working horse when I get back. Time to make the donuts. Or as Ron puts it ‘Making the bacon.’ The most recent Ron malaprop is his term for dingleberries. He’s calls them Cherynobyls.