Something Weird on My Desk

This past weekend I gave a visit to my parents, reassure them that I was indeed happy with who I married. We stayed in my old room, or my brother's old room. I'm still not quite sure on how to categorize that. For years as a kid I wondered, and asked on a monthly basis, when would I get a bigger room? I was told when Luke went to college. As a six year old, you really have no concept of what that means, or how long that really is. Eventually I figured out that Luke would leave the household to seek a brighter future, thus leaving his room vacant. So I waited patiently.

When Luke left for college, I was waiting for the all clear from Mother. It never came. I waited one year, as I apparently had grown accustomed to my smaller room and toys seemed to stop flooding it every birthday and Christmas. Luke came home for summer, got himself a summer job for a few months, then went back to B-ham. I realized at this point Mother was never going to say I could move in to his old room. Something she was trying to hold on to, I guess. I decided to not even say anything. One night, I started sleeping in that bigger room with the bigger bed. A couple days passed before Mom noticed. And it wasn't my sleeping in the room that tipped her off. It was the fact she found all of my stuff suddenly moved into Luke's old room. I'm not sure what kind of shock that caused her, but if it did any, she took it really well. Which is surprising knowing how this woman reacts to finding pubic hairs on couch cushions.

Now whenever Luke visits home he'll say "my room" referring to that bigger room. And rightfully so. There was only one bedroom he ever stayed in during the nine years before he left for college, so why wouldn't he refer to it as that? The trouble is I refer to it as my room as well. The smaller room, now with a bigger bed, has been completely disowned.

All the rooms have been refurnished now to be more accommodating for guests, the sons and their spouses/significant others. What's amazing to me is every time I go to stay at my parents house, I'll go take a shower and the shampoo and conditioner are almost out. After all the remodels and refurnishing of a major portion of the house, I find it hard to believe the one area that could cause trouble for a guest is lack of hair product. I went ahead and used the rest of the conditioner. If my mother is surprised by the bottle's emptiness, I hope she isn't too upset as she only left me a teaspoon of the stuff.

I went to a bar this past weekend and among other crowds at the bar, one there was hard of hearing. Literally. They were signing to each other, some were wearing hearing aids and most must have a hobby of blocking pathways in bars. I was amazed at how many were at the bar. I figure the entire community of the hearing impaired of Vancouver had to be at this bar. I'm not entirely sure why they were there. It couldn't have been for the music. The music was karaoke and I suppose one good thing about being deaf is you don't have to listen to the bad singers who are too drunk to know better. So many songs have been ruined for that reason. Another thing is that it is hard to squeeze by someone in the middle of a signing conversation. You can't say "excuse me." I just gently nudged through. Maybe they thought it was rude. Of course it might be considered rude when you stand in the middle of an aisle way and you can't hear anyone who wants to get by. I guess that's just life.

Not to say I was left out of sorts by the hearing impaired due to their impairment. I was pleased to see them having a good time, but what else could I do?