Gotta love them. Or at least, thank God, that nature forces the issue and makes you do it, because otherwise there would just be NO WAY you’d ever put up with that behaviour from a friend.
I make no secret of the fact that I am a pretty big fan of my daughters but, at times, their behaviour makes me wonder why. I keep on vacillating about which one is the worst, depending on what current issue they are dealing with. This week it would be number one daughter.
I have to keep reminding myself that I am the adult, even if she has reached her majority. Sometimes it takes a lot of reminding. Or other action, such as Boyfriend taking my hand to his lips in a courtly gesture, looking like he is going to kiss it, but in reality biting it, in an effort to forestall the words springing to my lips.
He tries not get involved, which is a really good move on his part. I know me and I know my girls and I know his indepth love of self help manuals – the triple combination is never a good one. (By the way, nothing against people that read those books; it’s more that I am a fan of actions and words that I’ve managed to work out for myself. I see a lot of that stuff as platitudes and it annoys me, as it does my daughters. But more credit to him for trying to understand stuff he doesn’t think he can get on his own).
I know he would like to back me up but he tries to stay strictly neutral, or provides support subtly. The other night that led to one of the most hilarious moments I’ve had in a long while.
We were sitting on the couch, watching tv, all four of us, and Number One Daughter had obviously had a bad day/week/month/life/reincarnation history. As usual she started taking it out on me, which is where the hand biting came in. I didn’t respond so she stepped it up a notch, saying that if she were him she’d break up with me. Then she looked at my hair and said all the treatment she’d recommended was obviously working as it looked much better. Actually, I’d just washed it (See? There is a lot to be said for lazy women like me – you can instantly improve your appearance by doing basic acts of hygiene that most others take for granted. Obviously, my regular appearance is so slovenly that little things are noticed).
Admittance of failure to adhere to the Hairdresser Nazi’s code of personal grooming infuriated her and she came out with a comment about how disgusting my hair was. Well, I felt that. Boyfriend was sitting there, silently sympathetic, and took out his phone, I assumed to distract himself from wanting to tell N1D what a bitch she was being.
Then the home phone rang and Number 2 Daughter got up to answer it. I happened to be looking at her face at the time and saw her changing expressions from puzzlement to apprehension to horrified wtf?
I was up and moving off the couch in one movement to grab the phone off her, my mother instinct kicking in, and thinking it was an obscene phone call. Then she put the phone down and said “Oh my God, that is so creepy. Somebody is stalking me!”
Apparently, there had a been an initial silence on the line and then a scary mechanical voice had come on, saying “I love your hair”, in a low, hissing undertone, sort of like a man pretending to be a woman. She told us wide eyed bystanders this and then there was a moment of silence before comprehension hit us all.
Boyfriend had sent me a text, expressing great admiration for my hair, and for some reason had sent it to the home phone, rather than the mobile. Which apparently has a feature that converts text into voice that I didn’t know about.
All four of broke into deep belly laughs that didn’t stop until after our stomachs were sore. I love laughing that much and that hard.
Interestingly enough, none of us, including boyfriend, has been able to repeat the action. It’s almost as if the universe was trying to distract us all from my obvious shortcomings, as reiterated by my daughter.
(She did apologise the next morning, totally unprompted. But really? This behaviour is getting very tedious. I wish she was just a roommate because her ass would be out of that door so fast it would leave skid marks.)