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It’s times like this that I think I’m living in Grand Central Station. People come; they go. Cars come and go. Pets come and go. Regular readers will recall that Crazy D moved out months ago to live with his girlfriend in a small town nearby. Actually, I should correct that. He moved bit by bit, over the space of weeks. First, he left a few clothes and crucial items at her place when he was working odd hours and commuting to Toronto. Her place was closer to the freeway. Each week saw more stuff leaving here and going there. In a classic understatement of the obvious, one day he cocked his head, thought briefly, and announced, “I guess I’ve pretty much moved in with her.” No shit, Sherlock.

Then one day recently came the phone call:”Mom, do you know any strong young man who might be able to help me move The Bed (aka His Dowry)? I think it’s time to move the rest of my stuff here.” I must explain that this bed is a king-sized one, with impressive teak headboard large enough to take over the room. The mattress is made of  memory foam, wobbly and heavy and impossible to manage down the stairs and through the hallway. It is, for all intents and purposes, THE ROOM.

Crazy D appeared yesterday to pack some things. This he did…leaving large boxes and plastic buckets lining the halls. I had mentioned to him that I needed him to set up my new printer (the one that will replace the one that didn’t work after he used it a week ago. Not placing blame, just sayin’… I don’t believe in coincidence.)

He installed it but couldn’t get it to work. Seems he needed my Apple ID and password. Well…we are so screwed. After a five-minute rummage through all the little bits of paper in the desk drawer that contains similar tidbits of crucial info, I came up empty-handed. How the hell do I know what the stupid ID is? Or my password? I tried various combos of my usual passwords but it didn’t like any of them. Pity…

Crazy D’s fix for the situation? “Leave it for today. I hate computers and all their passwords and IDs. With that, he threw up his hands and left, promising to be back in the morning to finish packing…I took note that he didn’t mention the printer issue. Surely he doesn’t expect ME, Techie Idiot #1, to fix it???I thought that’s what I had kids for!

Morning came and went; Crazy D did not. “Oh well,” I thought. “He must be busy or tired or running late.”

He phoned in the middle of the afternoon to share with me that he and his girlfriend were siting at their kitchen table watching a beautiful hawk. He knows I love birds.”I wish you could see it, Mom! It’s gorgeous.”

“Oh, how nice,” I gushed. “Imagine seeing a hawk that close! What’s it doing? Just sitting?”

“Oh, no. It’s ripping apart some animal…actually, I think it’s a bird. We can see the feathers now.”

“What? You called ME, the lady who feeds the birds, who loves birds, to announce you’re enjoying watching a hawk rip apart another bird? That could be one of MY birds, the ones I so faithfully attract to my feeder and try to provide safe haven for! What are you…sadistic? I mean, I think hawks are beautiful and I know they kill and dismember animals and smaller birds, but I don’t want to see it or be given a blow-by-blow! I also don’t want to meet the chickens or cows I eat! Have a little empathy. I’ve lived this long in denial about the ugliness of nature. Let me continue to embrace my denial and believe in Santa and unicorns and that Bambi’s mother doesn’t die in the fire. Is nothing sacred to you? And by the way, are you still coming today to pack?”

“I don’t know…are we still welcome? I just wanted to share nature with you. Perhaps I should have edited some of the details. Sorry. We’ll be there around 5 or 6.”

Really? Has he been away so long that he doesn’t recall that I eat at 5 and am settled in my pjs in the ‘nest’ (the bed) with Mrs. Beeton (the pink parakeet) by 6? After all, it’s dark by then. And how will be be able to see to load all his stuff in the car? Perhaps he has a Master Plan unknown to me.  On second thought, it’s probably the Crazy D “Fly By The Seat Of Your Pants” plan.

I really wish Gill was here so we could sit down, pour ourselves a glass of wine and watch the shit show together. It is always fine entertainment when Crazy D moves. I wonder if I should post something on YouTube…