The Chemical Wow of Starbucks

In an effort to keep me awake past 7pm, The Boy took me out for a Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate.  Even though he claims it tastes like popcorn-flavored Jelly Bellies, he can't stop sipping from my cup.  That is typical behavior for him.  I work daily to find it endearing. 

Here's a typical conversation of ours:

Grumples (heading to kitchen): I'm getting a Coke, do you want one?
The Boy (from couch): No, that's okay.

***Three Minutes Later***

The Boy: May I have a sip of your Coke?

Grumples: (Heavy sighing, eye rolling): Fine.

From The Boy's point of view, he'll claim this scenario is totally false, because he feels I never ask him if he wants anything when I go in to the kitchen.  That is only true like 25% of the time.  

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Three ways to know The Boy has been working too much and cannot handle driving a car:

1. Attempts to turn left in front of a very obvious oncoming car--only stops when I yell, "CAR!"
2. Looks both ways at a red lights and starts to accelerate through it--only stops when I yell, "It's a RED LIGHT not a stop sign!"
3. Almost rear ends the car in front of him taking a right, and must swing slightly left to avoid the other car's bumper.  At least he corrected himself before I yelled.

Must remember that he bought me a grande salted caramel hot chocolate.  And got me home safely.  Which is almost disappointing, because this only proved his assertion that he is an expert driver.  He likes to remind me of that all the time.

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After a fatty lunch of an IHOP ham-and-cheese sandwich, I answered a call for help, and ran some Tylenol over to Nauticalina, who was running a fever.  We both agreed to accept the other's unshowered self (seriously, she still looked beautiful; while as I was on my second day of not showering).  I bought her some vegetable soup, and washed her dishes while cooking the soup (on the stove--no half-ass microwaving for a sick friend).  After talking a bit, I sent her off to bed, and she better have followed my orders, dammit.  Just because I hate children, doesn't mean that I don't have a mothering instinct.  I also really enjoy washing dishes and being a hero--even if it is for one day only.

Since I couldn't procrastinate any longer, I finally found myself in the garage mosaicing.  Mosquitoes kept biting me, and it was hot.  I must complain a lot to make my art good.  Mosaicing is damn hard work.  Some how I had forgotten this.  Now I remember.  Two hours was a good start, and I vow to try and work on it every day.  Cross my heart.  Even if it gets in the way of watching some Red Dwarf tomorrow night.