Dear Bitchy and Sassy,
I want to thank you for the clever plan you two cooked up to kill your mother.
The fact that you BOTH informed me several days ago that you had to move into your dorm/apartment on the same day could not have pleased me more. Oh sure, you CLAIM that it was coincidental, and that Sassy’s coach could never have known that Bitchy was moving into HER apartment on the same day that the WHOLE TEAM was to arrive on her campus a mere three hours away.
And wasn’t it fun when we had to move tubs, boxes, clothes, shelves, bed frames, mattresses, MORE CLOTHES, THOUSANDS OF SHOES (Cheezus, do they multiply???) from the third floor, all the way to our cars on our steep driveway?
And Mother Nature, it was incredibly clever of you to throw in a horrendous thunderstorm just when we started unloading all of Sassy’s belongings. You must have known that Sassy would run for cover into her room and stay there until I was done. (And I am still laughing over the fact that her dorm does NOT have an elevator. HA. How comical.)
So, Sassy, the three hour drive home in soaking wet clothes sufficiently distracted me from the erratic trucks that decided it was a great day to freak out a fifty –year old mother. And that combination kept me from realizing that you had, indeed, moved out.
Bitchy, thank you for waiting until 8:00 tonight to have us move YOUR STUFF into your apartment. Although I couldn’t talk, move my legs or my arms, we managed to move your bed, a few THOUSAND tubs, and other various items that simply had to go into your apartment tonight. We vacuumed, put the bed frame together, made the bed and God knows WHAT else before I claimed I was near death.
And I have to applaud your incredible finish. When all was said and done, and we were ready to leave you had to take me down the five flights of stairs to the basement. Even though YOUR apartment complex does have an elevator.
I would kick your @$$ right now if only I could move.
Someone take my pulse, cause honestly I'm pretty SURE I’m dead.