A word to the producers of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - You should just tag along whenever I come back to my parents house. It seems like every time I come home now, there is some major renovation going on in my house. And while my parents cannot lay the stones in the shower themselves, saying they were uninvolved would be like saying Ross is a morning person, it is possible to understand every word Nick says, or Sheila is not awesome. Those things are just completely untrue.
This time, I found upon my arrival home that my parents bathroom and bedroom are being completely repainted, as is the pool. Those who know me best know I find joy in little things, and so I present...the joys of coming home:
-In choosing a color for their ceiling, my parents briefly considered "extra white." Which begs the question: What the hell is extra white? We are talking about the same white here, right? The combination of all colors in the visible spectrum? So how exactly can a color be "extra" white? If I am making cookie dough, and I make some with butter, sugar, flour, and eggs, and I decide to just put more of everything in again in the same proportions, I wont have more cookie dough flavor. I'll just have twice the cookie dough. I understand that there are a whole lot of paint colors out there (the walls of my room were colored "fortune cookie" before I wallpapered my room with sports pictures), but I just cannot get on board with this concept of a color that is "extra white" If I need to name something that is appears whiter than other white things, I call it Ryan.
-My father is not the most patient man in the world, and often works in profanity the way other artists work in oils or clay. When a large project is to be done, he will come up with how he wants things to happen, and you better be on the same page whether he explains the plan or not. Otherwise, it's welcome to 4-letter-word town. Population: 1. You. Everyone else was killed by the f-bomb that just got dropped because you flipped the mattress over the other way than he wanted to go. The pool is being opened. Yesterday, we took the cover off - quite an ordeal requiring a good deal of coordination. Perhaps even more so was folding it up today. But something was missing from the process - my father getting angry and swearing. Why? Has the old man changed in his ways? As a born and bred Indiana native this is doubtful. The solution, instead is quite simple - the presence of my girlfriend in these exhibitions. It's brilliant. All I have to do is make sure she is close by for as many "family projects" or "tasks" as possible, and the dad-censor will kick in. There will be less frustration, less swearing, and my day will be much less soul-crushing. It's a shame I didn't have a girlfriend that time I got a plastic Easter egg stuck in the furness or that time I put oil in the lawnmowers gasoline tank...
-One of the joys of coming home is getting mail that has been delivered for me. I received a letter from AT&T. The front said "An exclusive offer - just because of someone you know." The letter outlined an offer for a free phone if I switched to AT&T, and I was getting this offer because someone I know has AT&T. It is true, I do know some people who are on AT&T. Let's see...Ryan...Jill...Gregg...my mom....my sister...who am I forgetting?...oh yeah. ME. I am on AT&T. So thanks a lot, company that values my business. Maybe I can switch off of your network and then take advantage of this offer and switch back on. I wonder what would happen if I attempted to go through with this offer. I figure I could at least get to say "That's right...I'm already a member. You want any sauce with that six piece of Blau nuggets?" Sidebar: I have yet to say that phrase to an actual person. My cat just stared at me and licked herself, which was not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
I do love coming home. Good luck to all my law friends writing this casenote. Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue...
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