The Comeback

This morning, Cal and I woke up around 7. As we do, since we're old and our weekdays sort of flow into our weekends nowadays, and we just get up at the same time every day. Because we're old.

Anyway, we had a few things to do today: clean floors (since no one else ever does it), do some dishes, a couple loads of laundry, and bring in a table from outside which had been painting and was drying overnight.

The point is, being the considerate housemates we are, we waited almost four hours to do any of these things. Around 11 we brought in the table. The only noise we were making was a bit of conversation in our normal voices (that is, not shouting like Some People's Normal Volume). So we get the table in, and out stumble Certain People (again, around 11!) blinking blearily and looking grumpy, asking what we were doing.

"We just brought the table in," Cal said.

"Yeah. We heard that," Certain Someone said. (In an extremely condescending tone.)

Now, let me stop there and say that yes, 11 might be a bit early for some people. I slept in 'til 11 on many occasions while in school. (Heck, I slept in 'til 3 once after a NaNo get-together.) But at 11, I really don't think it should be an Expectation that everyone is completely quiet. Quite frankly, I doubt it was our conversation that did the waking and more the sun casting its bright and beautiful rays upon some self-centered little cheeks.

I might sound a bit harsh, but this is pent-up frustration about all those times I was woken up at, say, midnight--a perfectly reasonable time to be asleep, I should think, given Cal needs to wake up before 6 and I get up at 7--or that Certain Party that caused my respect for Certain People to spiral down, down, down to the bottom of the great blue sea, sea, sea. And yet when such instances happen, WE were obviously in the wrong for being in bed to early. But when we wake THEM up, WE are also obviously in the wrong for making too much noise. Great logic, that, right? Like I said, self-centered cheeks.

But this, my friends, is hardly the point of this blog post at all.

This evening, I was reading a book. Thor was crying outside. It is past his dinner time. No, he's not supposed to be outside after his dinner time. However, he had not eaten yet. So Certain Someone comes along and opens the door for him, saying in a rather confused tone, "Oh, Thor, you're outside?" And I was all sitting on the couch with the door in my sight, sort of rolling my eyes. Then Certain Someone has the audacity to walk STRAIGHT INTO OUR ROOM without asking, to look at the window Thor climbs out of, which was open. And at this point I'm raging because of all the rage that has built up over the last few months, combined with the lack of respect for my personal space and personal things, and I'm just like SERIOUSLY?

And THEN she comes out, looking around (obviously for Cal, as They don't ever discuss anything with me, only with him, like I don't exist) and finally said, "Um, is your window open?"

"Yeah," I said, suppressing eye-rolling urge--hadn't you just invaded my bubble to check? "It's fine."

"Oh. Um, is Thor meant to be outside?"

No, you idiot, that's why he's outside and I'm sitting here all not bothered, I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "He's fine."

"Oh, so, shouldn't you close your window?"

Rage building. Rage building a lot. "No, it's fine."

"Because Thor was outside, I just let him in."

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "I HEARD THAT."

And you could just TELL my tone was at its deadliest, because she looked rather taken aback, but the comeback just went STRAIGHT over her head. Like a bird. Like a plane. Like superman.

And then I took great pleasure in the fact that they missed their bus. (Two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks.)