I mentioned that the August Birthday Bash of 2008 had come and gone in the last post, and I'll admit that a recap was notably absent. That's because there was nothing to note at this year's minigala except that AuntZ managed to convince Grandad to wear a SpongeBob party hat, which was out of character in a good way.
The Bash was held this year at my father's house, about a 50-minute one-way drive from our place. We got there on time, which is to say, about a hour before AuntZ, CousinZ, and Grandad arrived. In between fretting over where they could be (he's old, he's stubborn, he moves slowly, and he's not allowed to make that drive himself anymore - they're going to be late, it's okay), Dad took us on a tour of the house and regaled us with all of his planned renovations. Apparently he's having painters come this week, so he asked Husband if Husband would help him move the ginormous TV in the basement so that the entertainment center could be pulled away from the wall in preparation for the painters.
Sure, no problem, Husband is helpful like that. But before they got to it, Dad had another martini and got chatting, and it escaped his mind entirely. Then Aunt/Cousin/Grand showed up and we were doing the family thing, and the evening progressed as normal.
Last week I received an email from Dad. Had a great time, thanks for coming, oh and could you and Husband come back out here this weekend to help move the TV?
...Sure.
So last Saturday morning, instead of revelling in our original absence of plans, Husband and I embarked on another 50-minute drive to Dad's house to move a TV. In my family, a TV is rarely just a TV, so we anticipated a few other heavy-lifting activities on the schedule.
We arrived a little after 11, the appointed time. Dad's outside chatting with the pest control guy on his quarterly visit. And chatting. Husband and I wait on the steps. He's still chatting. We take a pass around the house, and when we've made the full circuit, He's Still Chatting. They must have been talking for the better part of 15 minutes while Husband and I stood around. Whatever. So Pest Man leaves and we go inside. I put down my purse and head to the bathroom, saying I'll join them downstairs in just a minute.
By the time I get downstairs, ready to help, the TV has been moved. And that's all we're doing. Husband and I kind of stare at each other. Seriously? We're not moving the rest of the bookshelf? No, he hasn't boxed up his movies yet. We're not moving the credenza? No, he hasn't moved the stuff out of it yet, and he can take care of that. So really, with today's gas prices, you asked us to make a 50-minute drive... to literally just move a TV? To move a TV five feet from its original location? Something you could have slipped the painters $10 to do themselves? It's not an unreasonably heavy piece - I've helped him move it before.
He asked if we wanted to stay for lunch but, um, no. In hindsight, we should have had him take us out to Fireworks - at least we would have been compensated with a free meal.
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My dad would call up and say "Son, when you get a chance in your spare time, mom would like you to come by and do such and such." Parents house was in Great Falls and we of course lived in dumasses, about 45 minutes away. If I was not there in the next hour, dad would be on the phone "Where the hell are you"! So much for Spare Time.
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