Presented with only the comment that, well, this is me, with different details:
(Used with love. Bill Watterson, his attorneys, their syndicate, please don’t sue me.)
This is in response to a comment Adrienne left on the last post…
The scene: My third grade Catholic school classroom, under the tender care of Mrs. Dexter, a real authoritarian bitch. We’re discussing the Book of Genesis, and the Creation Story.
Mrs. Dexter: “So, when it says that God rested on the Seventh Day, we interpre… Yes, Monocentric?”
Monocentric: “What about the dinosaurs?”
D: “Excuse me?”
M: “The Creation Story doesn’t talk about the dinosaurs we learned about in science class. Where’d they come from?”
D: “We’ll have to discuss this later, I want to finish this discussion today. So, what we’re supposed to take away from this is that…”
M: “But Mrs. Dexter, you said that the dinosaurs had been in the ground for years and years and…”
D: “Be quiet, Monocentric. We’ll discuss it later.”
M: “But Mrs. Dexter, what about in the Ark? Is that why the dino…”
D: “BE QUIET BEFORE I CALL YOUR PARENTS.”
M: “… eep.”
Now, of course, I know that the Catholic Church is extremely friendly to evolution, and they apologized for Galileo, etc. I’m still not friendly with the Church, but I’m willing to cut them some slack on those issues, at least.
So today I was listening to the This American Life episode where they retract their piece about Apple manufacturing, which turned out to be an unverifiable piece of “theatrical truth”, or some shit like that. And during the piece, Ira was just so unbelievably calm. So… Ira. And the following started to unfold in my brain…
“For a well-rounded education, you could try curling up with good books and bad librarians.”
My beloved-father, whom I shall ironically dub DaddyDearest, works for a nonprofit facility for the developmentally disabled – he is, however, working at a prison. It’s my father’s job to make sure that those 400-odd fine guests of the State still get fed every day. While the prisoners aren’t particularly going anywhere, there are still a lot of moving parts to making sure they all get fed. F’example, last year during the Great Blizzard of ’11, my father was the only one on staff in the kitchen for two days. The food still got out, albeit late, but he made sure everybody in the prison as an inmate or a guard got fed. He’s like that.
So, the first year the prison contract was up for renewal, my father’s boss(the director of finance for the nonprofit) and her boss, the director of the nopro, went to the Capitol to discuss the contract with the Department of Corrections.
When all was said and done, they had one complaint:
The peas in the beef stew were insufficiently green.
Le Director choked out something, and they left. It is given to my understanding that on the drive home she kept screaming, out of now, where, “Peas! They’re complaining about the god-damned peas!” She eventually calmed down, but only after it was repeatedly pointed out to her that if the only complaint the DoC had about Nonprofit’s performance was the color of the peas, things were going pretty well…
Fast-forward about 10 years.
Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, we discovered that one of the cats had pissed on our bed. Thankfully, we have a stain/liquid-resistant cover on the mattress, for exactly these cases, but there’s still the sheets, blankets, and so on. Mulder was grumbly about the cat using our bed as a litter box, and generally grousing.
I fetched a new set of sheets out of the linen closet, and started remaking the bed. Mulder suddenly stopped, and said “Where’s the pillowcase?” I looked around the room, counted thrice just to make sure, and, yes, indeed, we were short one matched pillowcase with the sheet set.
This. Will. Not. Do.
Mulder isn’t, usually, too OCD-like, but every man has his last straw, and last night that was Mulder’s. He starts ranting and raving about “How difficult is it to keep sheet sets together!?” and “Why do the Girls keep losing our stuff!?” Due to some real struggles on their end, last year we hired The Girls to help keep the place tidy, and take our laundry over. Protip: It’s incredibly awkward hiring friends. Don’t do it.
Anyway… since Mulder’s rant wasn’t aimed, directly, at me, it just glanced off my funnybone – and set me to giggling. I end up laying on our bed, laughing with tears out of my eyes, and Mulder, finally calmer, is just looking at me with one eyebrow spocked up.
When I finally calmed down, I got as far as saying “The peas!” before I set myself off again.
Mulder, somehow naturally, didn’t quite see what was so funny.