Generally, I spend a large part of my day on the phone with him. An hour-plus main phone call and sometimes more. When his work schedule allows, that is - I just get a bunch of brief calls when he's working 11AM-11PM.
So. Hm. Not the majority of my day, but a nice big part of my afternoon. I come home, I snuggle up on the phone with docorion, I take a nap. Sometimes there is phone sex. Mostly not. Either way is good.
I didn't get that yesterday, and I'm not going to get it all week. Not just phonesex - the luxury of just being on the phone with him. Because of the parental onslaught. Because my mother is nosy as hell, and It Would Be Rude to ignore her for the phone and who is the person anyway that I'm talking to him on the phone when I hate phones?
So we schedule our calls for after 9. And I'm just thrown off.
And this is in addition to the rest of the parental onslaught, which yesterday included the "What other cities up north would you consider living in besides Boston?" tack. Mom knows there's something she doesn't know, I think.
"None of them! Too expensive."
"Anything in the South?"
"We hate the South."
And for a full reversal...
My mother has never been satisfied with anyone's house in her life. Double points for my house. If my house looked perfect, she'd find twenty things wrong with it in the span of five seconds.
So my mother walks into my house. She sits down. She looks around. And she says this:
"I don't know why you say your house is so messy. It looks neat."
I blink. "It - does?"
"Well, the books look messy."
Okay, part of her is still in there...
Yes. Well. That was day one.