My Parents Did Too Much Acid In the 60s

I have come to the conclusion that my parents just did entirely too much acid in the 60s – its either that – or I’m seriously beginning to lose whatever brain cells I have left. Here’s how my night and morning began today.

I went to sleep in the wee hours of the morning after losing (as usual) the Candy Crush Saga battle on level 35. Yeah, I know. I suck.

The Man Thing didn’t take his sleeping pill last night, it was too late when he remembered to take it and he had an early morning today, so he went without. Which meant that he was awake every half hour and yelling at me to be quiet or go in the living room. (I snore)

I finally gave up trying to sleep in my OWN bed with him yelling in my ear and the dog kicking the shit out of me because I dared to stretch out into the middle of the bed which has suddenly become HER bed. Around 6:00 a.m. I went and curled up on the couch with my blankie and drifted off to blissful sleep.

Or so I thought…

From 6:00 a.m. until 7:15 a.m. this is what my brain experienced.

The Man Thing stood in the hallway completely naked telling me now he couldn’t go anywhere. When I asked him why, Tre and his friend peeked out of Tre’s bedroom door laughing like hyenas. When I asked them what they were doing at the house so early in the morning, they jumped out in the hallway, made a face, and jumped into Tre’s room where they promptly disappeared in a blinding white light. (think Hot Tub Time Machine when Lou is banging Kelly and Jacob disappears and then reappears – yeah, I’ve been watching the movie this week)

Next, I’m driving hubby to his appointment in Hanover this morning, but we were downtown in Richmond behind the General District Court in the alley. He tried to get out of the car. I told him no, that wasn’t where we were going. He looked at me as though I’d just told him his head was on backward.

I came back home to find Jonathan asleep on the couch, with his shorts on, and a bunch of stuff jammed into his pocket. I pulled out a bottle of Excedrin, a pack of my cigarettes with 3 half-smoked cigarettes and 4 un-touched cigarettes, a roll of lifesavers, and a couple of notes from his girlfriend(s).

I went in the bedroom to tell John, but he was gone. So I went back to the living room to wake Jonathan up and find out what the hell he was doing with my cigarettes – and HE was gone.

I curled back up on the couch and then John was standing in the hallway (again – naked) yelling at me that the dog had to go outside.

I got up, opened the door, and waited 10 minutes for her to walk 2 feet to get out the door. We then went outside and I waited 10 more minutes while she sniffed every blade of grass outside the back door, and another 20 minutes for her to go tinkle and walk back because God forbid, the grass was wet and Ms. Priss doesn’t like getting her feet wet. I then waited another 10 minutes for her to get from the bushes to the back step because, naturally, she had to sniff the $#^! frigging grass blades again!

When I came back in the house I must have had a really strange look on my face because John says, “What’s wrong with you?” to which I replied:

My parents did way too much acid in the 60s.