I work from home. Rather, I work from my parents' home. My parents are retired and so they have adorable weekly outings to breakfast at the local pancake and club salad place, then head off to Costco and the grocery store and if my mom is feeling saucy, the dollar store. Sometimes, they get a baked chicken wrap and 35-cent Diet Coke at Costco. Every week, though, they are home in time to see Jeopardy and finish reading the paper.
Did I mention they like to stop in wherever I am working and offer up little tidbits of news or brainstorms or show me the thousands of listings of apartments they download for me? They do.
Does that sound ungrateful? I don't mean it that way. They have also been incredibly supportive, have stepped up generously to help me raise Lil E these last six months and have opened their home to us with no pressure to stay or leave (despite what those listings might tell you). Truly, it has been a blessing.
A blessing for 24 hours minus mayyyyybe one or two interrupting moments. Today, after my dad and I laughed once, twice, maybe three times over this effed up news item, I heard them laughing about it together in the living room several more times and then calling my brother to laugh with him about it. He was doing field work out of town, but they called to yuk it up over the potty lady. I told you: retirement is good times, y'all.
Then my mom popped in politely on me while I worked. I was posting intently, she was full of fifth-grade grrrl giggles. They'd been reading about the prostitute employed by Governer Spitzer. And, no shocker, they'd been giggling about it, probably over leftover chicken bakes. Nothing's more fun that talking hookin' over a late lunch.
"Jess, I have a question about this hooker girl," my mom barely got out over her giggles.
"Yes?" I was suspicious.
"Apparently, she is an aspiring musician with a MySpace page?"
This already captured my attention because my mom barely let call waiting into the house a few years ago and still refuses to believe people need to text message, let alone Facebook or MySpace or mystery shop.
"Yes?" Again with the suspicion.
"Aspiring musician is a good goal for a hooker, right?"
Suspicions and sarcasm confirmed. I waited for the punchline. I got it in...3...2...1...
"My guess is she plays the pipes?!"
Yes, she was, in fact, laughing at her own joke as soon as it flew from her mouth. Not long after, she was laughing at my dad's contribution. She continued.
"But your dad says it's more likely the organ."
Pause. Pause. Near-impossible restraint. And then, yes, full-flown laughter. Ohhh.
I admit, this one was funny. And sure, they do make me laugh. Sometimes. OK, lots of times. Of course, most of that is over stuff Lil E says but this time...this time, they got me.
Ohhh, the pipes. Ohhh, the organ.
Well-played, you sassy, snarky, news-pondering chicken-bakey retired parents you.