For Chip: He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. —Unknown
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Challenges of Going Home
There is no Internet and surrounding networks require a password. Why did I bring a laptop and iPad?
I pretend to be a psychic and start guessing network passwords.
There is no cable, and all that is left is the basic converter box. How many people own these boxes?
Are there any English TV programs in Houston? Everyone speaks Spanish including religious personalities.
Why do the speakers on the new TV sound like tin cans?
My mom is watching channel 61. It is a shocking Hispanic "Jerry Springer" program. Contestants are in front of a chain link fence wearing thongs and cutlets. A stripper pole is strategically placed for those contestants that want 15 minutes of fame.
Old photo albums look appealing.
At 7:00 pm. the drapes will close tightly and overlap so that nothing inside is visible to the outside world.
The security alarm is set at 7:00 pm. If you want to take a stroll or get something out of your car it is too late. Lock down has been established.
Are you ready for bed? Really? It is only 8 pm.
Let's watch the twenty year old VHS tapes again. I prefer channel 61.
Have some cantaloupe. I never liked cantaloupe and still do not care for it. Whiskey is starting to sound appealing.
I am becoming anxious and claustrophobic with the drapes closed.
I keep driving by my in-laws house even though they are gone. I keep thinking of the wonderful roast and gravy I had there. I critique the new owners as substandard in comparison to my mother-in-law.
Watching my mom fumble with cash instead of a debit card is frustrating.
The recommended gas station is scary. When you get out of the car people start harassing customers as they fill up their gas tank.
Attending the church reunion is a challenge. Everyone looks different, and you are relieved there are name tags. "Who are these people?"
Refusing to use the drive through pharmacy seems archaic.
I am ready to visit the neighbor that takes his dog to a psychic. The dog needs a different color harness because he does not like red. The dog can not see the harness but now wears green. The session reveals pains, and injuries from the dog's previous owners.
I am dreading my next trip to Lubys. I have no appetite when I walk through the door. My daughter-in-law refers to one choice on the LuAnn platter as the "square" fish.
Realization that techie parents would be a plus.
Your phone becomes a lifeline that provides Internet access until a return to the real world.
The old bed feels comfortable except for the visual that dust mites are swarming everywhere.
Spirits lighten upon entering the drive-through line at Shipley Donuts for hot donuts.