I woke up Saturday morning at about 8 a.m. This is not usual. Also: I was on my couch. Also, my Dad was sitting in the chair opposite, with a pair of pliers in his hand, working over the cable wire. When he saw that my eyes were open, he said, “I’ve figured it out. The stupid cable guy cut both ends. What time does the hardware store open?”
“I have no idea,” I croaked. “Nine?”
He nodded. “I’ll go out and get some coffee and muffins soon. And then I’ll stop by the hardware store and get some ends for this. We’ll have this up and running in no time!” He examined the end again. “Cut both ends. That’s not right, you know. This end is your property.”
My folks came to visit me this weekend, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I miss them now. We went to see the Statue of Liberty and hung out with my cousin in Chelsea and lounged around my place. Also, my Dad rewired my cable and my Mom cleaned my livingroom. And then Dad hung all my paintings and such. When they left, I looked around in shock. In five hours they’d managed to do more than I have since I moved into the place.
One of these days I’m going to grow up. Just not, you know, soon.