| Cottage |
[28 Jul 2003|06:52pm] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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music |
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"If He Can't Have You" by Whiskeytown |
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So it's off to the cottage for me. One more week. The Cherub is fully thrilled, I am gradually becoming excited and my grandmother's pissed off to the max. Such colorful emotions raging through the miasma lately. My theory as to my grandmother's annoyance: she married at 17 and gave up freedom before she could even define it. She resents anyone who takes a different path. A shame she feels this way actually. The narrow '30's compressed her mind a bit I think. More than a bit actually... but getting into that does no one any good. A spade's a spade.
Tomorrow night, seeing as how I haven't gone swimming since I was 11, a bathing suit purchase must be made. No woman on earth can enjoy this process. I won't get into what I dislike about my body just yet. I might though, I might. (psst.. my boobs are too small...).
Ahem.
So two of his friends and I will be there for the remainder of the week, whilst a bunch of Italians from A's pack of minions crowd in on the first Saturday and Sunday. 6 of 'em plus the original 4. I can never understand how this many people can have fun together. Hell, remembering all of the names would be an achievement.
Everyone plans on drinking a lot as well. Another thing that fails me. If you have to drink to have fun.. well. I don't. I like memories and fine motor skills; dignity and health. I expect many retirings to be alone. After the Italians stream out I'll feel better. Just the 4 of us. The Italians. I don't know how else to refer to them, sorry. All couples too. Ah well, no drunken conquests. A plus.
So here's a confession that may not be entirely surprising... I never really learned how to swim. After getting glasses and being further restricted in the chlorine depths, I just waved it off as a flippant skill and left it. The cold made my lips turn blue anyhow. My swimming instructor will be an overweight 28 year old Irishman who has the hots for me and might pick out my bathing costume. Helps me.
Iv is sleeping out in a tent in the backyard. Apparently The Cherub's parents don't like him on their pull-out couch. I'm sure this puzzle will come to light eventually. Iv's a straaaaaange character.
All these brains to pick. I shall be busy. No drinking. Clouds the mind. Maybe he has bladder problems? Nah.. too anti-climatic.
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