Monday, December 19, 2005

Teenager Logic

I, no longer being a teenager, have long shed the teen brain gene. The gene that makes stupid things seem like wonderful and obviously sensible ideas. But, they abound in my household.

Example #1: Yesterday was 45 and drizzly. Terribly weather to have to be out in. Daredevil was called into work. He opted to peddle my beachcomber bike the mile to work in the nasty, miserable weather, rather than pick up the phone and ask his father to take him. When asked why he didn't call for a ride, he stated, "I was feeling lazy. I didn't feel like calling" Hello, knock knock. Anybody home. Ride in a warm car vs peddling your ass off in frickin freezing rain. My logic says call for a ride. But, then again, what do I know? I'm only the mother.

Example #2: Improviser lives up to his name again. I'm once again shaking my head and wondering, why? I came home to a trail of mischief today. I moved into Mother Detective mode immediately upon spying the lid to the spackle lying on the kitchen counter. Okay. Where is the rest of the container? And where is the hole? So, move into living room. I spy the spackle, a screwdriver, a knife, pliers and a chair. This is getting interesting. I'm scanning the walls trying to find the repair job. I can't spot any. Must have done a good job (beaming, I taught them well) or I'm just looking in the wrong place. I haul the boys in for questioning. It was the latter. I missed where the living room closet door had been repaired. BUT, THEN I HEAR THE REST OF THE STORY. That's not all I overlooked. The door had originally been on the hall closet when it was damaged. Big brother vs Little brother. Teasing. Taunting. Things flying. People running and ducking. Only the closet door was injured. No further explanation needed there. Just explain to me why Improviser thought the hole in the door would be less noticeable in the living room verses the hall. He went to great effort to take both doors off and switch them. THEN he looked for the spackle and repaired the hole. I don't understand the logic, but it actually worked out well. The living room closet door never has closed right. Now, it closes just fine. Dumb luck saves his butt again.

I am sooooooooooo ready for my vacation. Chowhound and I leave tomorrow. I must really be out of my mind and need this vacation if I can find logic in leaving an 18, 19 and 20 year old alone in my house and with possession of my car for a week while I am out of the country. Yes, you counted right. There is an extra hormone driven, dain bramaged male staying in my house. Improviser's best friend who just completed bootcamp. And who turns 20 Friday. OMG. What am I doing? Evidently, I still possess a small amount of that teen gene or senility is moving in already. If I don't return from the Bahamas, you'll know I regained my senses.