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Thursday, October 16, 2008

Sins of Omission… and The End Is (NOT) Near

The Boy has sort of settled down lately… if he’s having the kind of blow-ups he used to have, we’ve been insulated from them by his residency away from FAR Manor. We know he chugs more beer than he really should, but if he isn’t doing it in public (or at FAR Manor, which he does if he thinks he can) there isn’t a whole lot we can do about it.

So it’s the sins of omission, not commission, that get on people’s nerves these days. He’s not working; no hanging offense in this economy but it would be nice if he’d try harder. 'Course, that should mean he’s more available to work with Mrs. Fetched in the chicken houses — a little money is better than none, but there’s no commute involved and he’d get lunch out of the deal — and that’s where things start getting a bit hairy.

Since the Pontiac has multiple issues (starter’s shot and the muffler came off — that’s the car he was working on), I let him borrow my Civic with the understanding that I’d need it Friday since we’ve got rain in the forecast. I came in from choir practice last night and found my key on the kitchen table (with no car outside… odd). Mrs. Fetched was in bed and suddenly started fuming. “We’re not helping him anymore, since he can’t help me! No taking Snippet to work,” etc. Turned out he took his buddy and ex-boarder J to Roswell to pay a speeding ticket (J seems to have this issue with a lead foot); they picked up J’s dad, who presumably was just along for the ride, and drove down. Doing this instead of helping with the chickens is not the way to endear oneself to Mrs. Fetched, needless to say.

I worked at home today, and Daughter Dearest took me down to the trailer to get my car — the windows had been down all night, and a heavy dew was all over the interior… not The Boy’s fault since Mrs. Fetched grabbed the key last night. But then The Boy called around 3 p.m. “Can you take me to [our renter]? I need to get my hair cut [the renter cuts hair] so I can get a job at Wendy’s or something.” Run for the hills, it’s the Apocalypse!!! While it’s best to take Mrs. Fetched’s pronouncements literally, I wasn’t about to impede his efforts to either clean up his appearance or find a job. He walked back to the manor while I was working, grabbed his old trick bike, and was gone before I could get a look at The New And Improved Boy.

Come to think of it, he trimmed up his beard earlier this week too… The End is truly near!

UPDATE: Meh. Call off the Seventh Trumpet. He got a couple inches trimmed off his ponytail, and that’s it.


  1. Ahh! Life is grand eh, Far?

    The "Kid" is doing just fine at has little job at a guitar shop in GR.. He moved in with one of his buddies after he and his girlfriend had a drop out,(read, she finally came to her senses and realized he's not what she thought he was or could be".)

    You see Far, it's OUR preception or expectation of others, that makes life not as grand as it could be....

  2. Good point, Yooper. We all too often mistake perception for reality, and some people know how to take advantage of that.

    Funny you mentioned a guitar shop. The Boy got the Wendy's job, but there's a music store (guitars etc.) down the highway that he didn't know was there; I suggested he look into that if he doesn't get enough hours at Wendy's. He seemed to think that was a really good idea.

    Maybe his XGF learned a fundamental truth:

    A woman marries a man thinking he'll change, but he doesn't.

    A man marries a woman thinking she won't change, but she does.

  3. Hey Yooper, I forgot to ask: how's Mrs. Y doing? I remember you saying she got pretty sick last month.

  4. Far, You're giving me lots to look forward to with my 9 year old son! I hope the boy gets his job.

  5. Boran, supposedly he did! He starts next week. I don't know if he'll take a stab at the music store, but some money coming in beats none at all, which has been the situation for a while.

  6. The Boy will never grow up if he keeps having to lean on you for help. I lost my license at his age for a year and had to sell my car. When I got my licence back Mom never let me borrow her car, and I rode my bicycle for over a year. I grew up a lot when I found out that my parents weren't going to bail me out everytime I got into a jamb. Sure I lived in the city, so maybe the Boy needs to move closer to where the work is.

    He's a healthy guy, let him walk, ride a bike or get a ride from a friend, but you should cut him off completely from your cars.

  7. Solar, if we lived in a place with higher population density, that might be an option. The way I see it, letting him borrow a car on occasion (and not reliably) keeps him from moving back in.


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