No, I’m not bipolar.
I just have moments of self pity that end up being played out on paper.
This is not one of those moments.
This is a thankful moment.
Thankful for all that I do have.
If God or The Omnipotent Being or Nature or Whom/Whatever stepped down and said "Brittany, I will make you healthy. In return, you must give up . . . " and he/she/it named any member of my family or any one of my friends, I would tell he/she/it to stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine.
Unless he/she/it was asking me to give up Becca.
That I might do.
KIDDING, Becca (if you ever read this, but you won’t because I won’t tell you where my blog is)!
My brother, regardless of his assinine-ness, is wonderful.
You have to know that.
Most of you are aware that I love that boy to distraction.
I would take a bullet for him.
I would die for him.
Yes, he knows this and takes full advantage of it.
But he returns the favor, too.
This afternoon, which will henceforth be called the perfect afternoon, I was lounging in my hammock.
The one that, coincidentally, my brother put together (I have no trees, people, I had to buy a hammock stand thingamajiggee).
Lounging, as much as one can, with a laptop.
Work does not stop simply because it’s a wonderful afternoon.
And it was wonderful.
Blue sky with clouds rolling in.
The smell of rain and new growth.
65 degrees with a cooler breeze.
I thought I heard a vehicle pull into the drive, but was too pre-occupied answering emails to get up.
Suddenly the laptop was squished against my midsection and 200 lbs of moron was on top of me.
He had launched himself into the hammock with me.
It’s a miracle I still have a hammock.
It’s a miracle I still have a laptop.
"Hi sissy. I came to mow your yard."
"YAY! Get off me, big ass."
We’re loving, aren’t we?
Yes, I can mow my own yard, but why should I.
I do everything for that child.
He runs a lawn service.
He can mow my lawn.
But, I do feel guilty watching him do it.
So I got up and weeded the landscaping. And pruned it back.
And moved all the lawn furniture out of his way.
And brought him iced tea.
And then laid my happy behind back on my hammock.
To listen to the birds chirp, the dogs bark and . . .
My brudder be a moron.
"Bricky! Me lubs you!"
"I love you too, dipstick."
He throws a wiggle in with his lawnmowing walk:
"Pieces! Pieces! Pieces of me!"
"Jayzus, bud, what are you playing on those earphones."
"I dunno, it’s on 107.7."
"Change the channel."
"Nah, she’s hot."
"You can’t see her, moron, you can just hear her."
A few minutes of silence.
"You’s a hoe! Hoe! You’s a hoe! Hoe! You’s a hoe! I said that you’s a hoe!"
"That’s on the radio??? That song’s like OLD."
"No, it’s not on. You’re just a hoe!"
"Tybo, do you know when the last time I got laid was???"
"UGH! Gross! Don’t tell me this stuff! Besides I saw you and that guy with the station wagon makin out in the hammock last week."
"That was like three weeks ago. And don’t make fun of that car, it’s his work car. They make him drive it."
"Right. That’s what he tells you. You ever seen his other vehicle?"
"Yeah. I have."
"What’s he drive?"
"Why do you care?"
"You’ve got problems, you know that. I need charts and powerpoints to explain the number of problems you have."
A few minutes of silence.
"TY! You just threw grass all over me, the hammock and . . . damnit, I can’t type! It’s all in the laptop’s keyboard."
"Ha ha ha! You got dirty! You got dirty!"
"Are you 22 or 12?"
"I’m big pimpin."
"Yeah, that’s the answer to my question. No wonder I have to write all your papers."
"You write all my papers because you’re the writer. I mow your yard because I’m the mower. That’s how we do this."
"Get your bitch ass in the kitchen and make me some cookies. Oh and some blueberry pancakes."
Few minutes of silence.
"That don’t look like blueberry pancakes!"
"You don’t even LIKE blueberries."
"Bitch, ROAD TRIP! Watch a movie once in a while."
"I got the reference, punk."
"So where’s my cookies?"
"Make your own cookies."
"I can’t cook."
"You can’t do anything."
"I can mow!"
I would type more, but he just walked up behind me and started blowing me with the leaf blower.
The. Leaf. Blower.
Don’t you wish you had a brother?