Will You Show These 20 Good People the Dog Kennels?

The above references a Monty Python sketch about a just-married couple buying a mattress. This is because today's story is about a mattress.

A fictional couple is purchasing a sleep number bed and a no number fridge from their fictional parents.

Fictional Mom: I need a new bed, so we want to give you the new Sleep Number bed.

Fictional Wife: That's incredibly generous of you but we must pay you for it.

Fictional Husband: G-bus, we've had cars that cost less than that bed.

Mom: And the fridge.

Wife: The fridge?

Mom: Yes.




Wife: I'll call some movers.

Husband: Call one of those 2 guys and a truck people. We don't need commercial movers for a bed and fridge.

Wife: I called them, only it's two guys - we have to rent the truck.

Husband: This isn't going to go well, is it?

Wife: Not on your life, bud.




Wife: It's all set! We have a truck, two guys at an outrageously high hourly rate, and all will go well.

Husband: You're just tempting the universe.

Wife: All we need to do it make sure there's a path for them to move everything.

Husband. A path, you say?

Wife: Yes, so they can walk the bed and fridge through.

Husband: What - the 2' path that's already there isn't enough?


Wife: It's Monday - we have the whole week to work on it.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
Thursday.
Friday.
Wife: I CAN'T BELIEVE WE HAVE ALL THIS SHIT TO DO.  Bag up the 100 dog toys he put all over the steps. Clean the entire kitchen. Hide the spare televisions and the rhinocerous cages in the bathroom. Throw the explosives in the bedroom. Put the bird out back. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE DON'T HAVE A BIRD?

Husband: You do realize I'm working from home today.

Wife: YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO LEAVE EARLY.

Husband: How do you leave early when you're already home?

Wife: STFU and get vacuuming.

Husband: Shouldn't I wait til they have everything in place and they're done dragging in more dirt?

Wife: No. We're recovering slobs and I don't want anyone to know. Now clean the fridge.

Husband: The fridge? The one we're throwing out?

Wife: Yes.

Husband: Why am I cleaning literal trash?

Wife: I don't want anybody to know what our fridge looks like.

Husband: Keep the (*#@ing doors closed.

Wife: You need to take the doors off.

Husband: No I don't.

Wife: Yes you do - it's the law, so kids don't get stuck in there.

Husband: If they get stuck in there, they'll learn a valuable lesson and never do it again.



One day earlier:

Wife: I texted Dad 4 hours ago that everything was set and nothing has changed. He just left a voicemail, panicking because he doesn't know the game plan.

Husband: I just got 2 calls from Fictional Parents within 5 minutes, out of their minds because they don't know what's up and because you didn't answer your phone. When did I become your answering service?

Wife: They're crazy. They will wait til I have time to call them.

Husband: Can't we just cancel the bed? They're giving stuff to their neighbors - let them give the bed to them too. It's a small apartment, so they'll have to hang it from the ceiling, then the parents will complain that the ceiling makes too much noise.


Back to Friday: T minus four hours til delivery.

Dad: I'll help by driving the truck. But Wife, you have to come over and spend time with Mom the moment you're done. She misses you and you haven't come over all week.

Husband: WTF IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE? IT'S THEIR BLEEDING FRIDGE and they have no concept of us having to set it up, as well as firing up the front-end loader to make room in the bedroom (behind the explosives).

Wife: Ok, I'm leaving now. All you need to do is take out the trash, clean the fridge, sweep everything you can find into a random trash bag, make a nice picnic for when we're done, and put together these 12 space-saver shoe racks, because 12 is all they had - the rest are back ordered.

Husband: These are for the basement, right? I can't get to the basement because of all the shoe rack boxes blocking the stairs. Why is there a half full can of soda that's unopened in the fridge? Hey, have you seen the dog?


Husband continues chores.
Notices that if he touches one thing, 13 other things mysteriously appear in the way, then fall over.
Brings out vacuum. The cord won't reach. Vacuum turns itself on and off.
Vacuum has to be stopped constantly because there's change on the floor. Nobody knows why, but change is always on the floor at vacuuming time. Unfortunately, high denomination dollar bills never litter the floor- just change. Vacuums don't like change. Neither do most people.

The chair that needs to be moved weighs 100lbs without the 100lb go-kart that's on it. The poor dog is cowering on the couch, unable to see the floor.  Husband goes to the (now clean) fridge to get something to drink. There's nothing there except plenty of warm spring water. Under the chair is that cat he thought ran away last summer. Perfectly preserved too. Perhaps he could earn a few bucks through taxidermy.

Wife calls to ask how wide the doorway is. Husband measures 71. Wife says the answer she's looking for is in inches - try turning the tape around. Husband regresses to age 5, when Mom asked how many gallons of gas the car took.
Tip: do NOT smoke near gas pumps.

Husband sees a trash bag to take out in the kitchen, only he can't pick it up because there's a chainsaw on top of it. The fridge had to be moved away from the wall. Why? Because the underneath might be dirty and has to be swept before the movers get there with the new fridge. Husband's head hurts really badly. The voices are saying very nasty things that would lead to a lengthy jail sentence. At 3:30, husband figures he might want to have breakfast but can't, because most of the food has been hidden in the garage. He didn't know he had a garage, but you learn something new every day. Also, Dunkin Donuts frozen hot chocolate makes an excellent breakfast, any time of day.

Husband collapses and finally goes back to work. He wonders if he talks wife into sex, would that be considered having sex at work. He ponders other large questions while the the neighbor manages to run three mowers at the same time. He tells wife that it's been nice and sunny for two days, so they better get ready for the May snowstorm the following day.


Fictional Mover: Where do you want the bed?

Husband: upstairs.

Mover: Do you want the fridge up there too?

Husband: This is a pretty weird house, but I'd prefer it in the kitchen.



Husband: Wouldn't it be easier to take the old one out first?

Mover: What old one?

Husband: The old fridge.

Mover: We weren't told anything about that. You should really clean that thing - you don't want the neighbors seeing it this way.



Mover: Ok, we need a wider doorway for the new fridge.

Husband: Oh.

Dad: Nah, they just have to move it in sideways. GUYS - just move it that way. The magnets come off the front- take the little fridge magnets off and you'll get it through. Turn it this way. No, it won't work. Nah, it won't get through. You should move it back and try it again. Nah, it won't work.

Mover1 to Mover2: Turn it a little. That's it, we're good.

Dad: See, I told you so. Sometimes I have good ideas.

Husband: stunned silence.

Mover: [seething] Do youse need anything else? Here are some parts of the door that fell off.

Wife: No thanks, I just have to clean the old fridge you guys put on the curb. I don't want the neighbors to see it like this.

Controlled Losing

There's something ugly in the air.  Let's start with the weather: it sucks.  We're deep into fall/winter (fall actually having been outlawed by the state of PA), which means it's cloudy and cold.  In the summer, it's cloudy and hot.  It's always humid, but I digress (usually).

Today I'd like to talk about boundaries, consequences and mental health.

Whenever you are in any relationship, including friends, you need boundaries.  One puts up boundaries so as not to get walked upon.  It's not always easy or intuitive; sometimes you need to learn the hard way.  In my family, we practically insist upon learning the hard way.  Again and again.

Consider a boundary like a see-through wall, which you erect to keep yourself safe.  One example would be telling your drug-addicted cousin that he can come over, but not do drugs in your home.  You can't control the drug use but you can control who you let in your house and what goes on inside.  After you put up the boundaries, you may be called upon to defend them.

This is actually a very basic, accepted principle of psychology, which I insisted upon learning the hard way when I met my wife.  Being the observant type, I noticed that boundaries, although healthy, come with their own downside.  I refer to this as Controlled Losing.  This is where our actual tale begins (continues?).

======================

My parents move a lot.  Some older folks take up hobbies like knitting, stamp collecting or doting over their grandkids (or grandpets); my parents move.  We don't have the time or willingness to diagnose this, although we certainly have our suspicions.

At first it was enough to lift an eyebrow.  Then we started noticing patterns.  Now we watch in horror, as they seem to fall into semi-yearly cycles.  I jokingly suggested they affix wheels to all of their furniture and invest in their own warehouse full of boxes and packing material to save costs.  Ok, half jokingly.

Here's where the boundaries thing kicks in....  

I'm a middle-aged guy with a back that gives me grief.  One brother lives on the other side of the country and another is local.  We don't have a lot of difference in age.  So this moving thing gets not only tiresome, it flipping hurts.  Every child helps their parents move, right?

Well, unless they get a moving company.  

We're not entirely sure why they don't get a moving company.  We're only talking small apartment here.  I suspect Mom thinks Dad is a moving department.  Judging by his newly-acquired limp (from bad knees), Dad is no longer the moving department Mom thinks he is.

So the last time we helped them move, as I was walking out the door, I set a boundary.

Mom, I hope you like this place, because it will be the last one.  I can't do this anymore.

My wife backed me one-hundred percent.

Fast forward a year or two, when the wife walks in with that look.  Guess what your parents are doing.....

Then, I enforced my boundary.

No.  I am not doing it.

Doctors, therapists and fellow inmates assure me this is a very healthy move on my part.

As if on cue, the wife says she has to help them.

I tried the Boundary Talk with her.

We already told them NO.  We have to enforce that.

If you're married, you will understand that I was overruled.
But I then had to defend my boundaries with the wife and the parents.

Fine but I'm still not doing it.  And you're going to hurt yourself trying. 

Now here we are at Moving Week.  My boundaries are holding strong.  I'm doing the right thing.
The only problem is that the right thing is coming back to bite me in the nether regions.  Let's tally the score, shall we?

• I told my parents I would not help them move after the last time.  Now they're upset and they're not getting a lot of help, so it's slow going and physically painful.
• I told my wife to defend her boundaries.  She hasn't.  Now the lady who needs a cane sometimes is helping her in-laws move.  She is bent over in agony now.  She is also quite crabby as a result.

If I had not defended my boundaries, I would be bent over in agony.  Since I allegedly did the healthy thing, there are a bunch of crippled, angry people, slowly moving an apartment.  And I'm lucky to still be married.

This is why I call this exercise Controlled Losing.


P.S.  Happy birthday to our spiritual leader, Jimi Hendrix!