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Tuesday, October 3rd, 2023
Captain’s Log
It's been a while since I shared the happenings aboard the S.S. Shit Show. We've been sailing with our flags at half-mast as we navigate a sea of grief and sadness. Losing Number 2's mom and his uncle in the same week has genuinely taken the wind out of our sails. The Crew is managing, but grief has a sneaky way of creeping up on you when you least expect it.
Case in point: the other day, as I was scouring the local Food Basics for supplies, I pulled out one of the handmade shopping bags she had lovingly crafted for me. It hit me like a ton of bricks that I'd never receive another one of her incredible sewing projects again. It led to a day filled with sadness. I felt guilty for all the times I rolled my eyes every time she'd show up with another shopping bag (I have 20) or one of those seasonal table runners. I am grateful for the remembrances and hope to pawn them off on my spawn one day when we downsize as family heirlooms.
In brighter news, Relic thrives daily at school, learning valuable life skills. The honeymoon phase is over, the beer goggles have come off, and he realizes that roommates are a far cry from the camaraderie of your shipmates; they're unpredictable, an unknown variable. He's discovering the quirks of each individual and understands that it'll take some time to get to know them fully. Lessons like the importance of turning off stove burners and irons before bedtime are taught the hard way, often with blaring fire alarms and scorched tables as reminders. And despite his initial enthusiasm for the house, he's come to terms with the fact that he's not exactly a football fan, and it won't be the sport that bonds him with his roommates. In Relic's defence, he thought all football games included a halftime performance and an abundance of cheesy fried snacks.I suggested that he not give up. His sister finds the sport fascinating, especially since Taylor Swift made it popular.
I've had countless conversations with him, reminding him that even after 21 years with the same roommate (Number 2), we're still butting heads over each other's quirks. This week, Number 2 and I had our own battle of wills. We have differing views on how long we can stretch a tube of toothpaste. Number 2 is willing to go to great lengths to extract every last molecule of minty paste, while I, as the captain of this ship, have little patience for such toothpaste battles. Needless to say, he was quite miffed when he discovered I had tossed out what he considered "days" worth of toothpaste and bought a new one.
We've also given the soft seating in our common room a much-needed makeover, as the old sofa had witnessed a slow and sorrowful decline. The latest challenge revolves around a debate on who will resist the Powder Monkey's charms the longest before letting him up on the couch. Unfortunately, today has revealed that even their Captain can find room for compromise. I conceded, but with a condition – the little rascal can join us if there's a protective blanket down for the ship's sake.
The Duchess has lodged a formal complaint with our HR department. She's disappointed that "being an only child isn't as blissful as she thought it would be." Apparently, she's not thrilled with the level of attention she's been getting. She's retaliating daily, choosing violence each time she emerges from her cabin. She's genuinely showcasing a remarkable aptitude for snide remarks, witty comebacks, and the bullshit tolerance of a middle-aged woman. I'm utterly in awe of her. She's absolutely perfect. As a reward for being the most delightfully terrifying daughter, I've granted her a Starbucks outing and a thrift store shopping spree.
I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving and having the boy back home for reading week. I miss him dearly. Grateful for my family.