Kill Joy

I am grooming my firstborn son to be a serial killer. In fact, he's going to be a serial killer for hire. I offered him 50 cents per fly that he kills inside the Mansion. And believe me, there was getting to be quite a fly population, what with two boys who are in and out about seventy-leven times per day. Right now, the tab stands at $2.50. OK, one was a spider, but I still paid for his execution.

I've never seen the boy move so fast. At the mention of 'fly', he dashes into the laundry room, grabs his trusty weapon where it hangs at the end of a clothes-hanging rod, and shoots back out the door like a superhero on a mission. After the kill, he gloats. It's like that Lysol commercial. He might as well stand brandishing his blue, wire-handled flyswatter, reciting: "I killed them on the cabinet...on the wall...on the soap dispenser...and on the wooden stool, twice." He's a regular killin' machine, that boy. At first, #2 son wanted a cut of the action. He wanted a finder's fee for directing the assassin to the target. He tried his hand at killing, but was too hesitant.

And while we're talking about death...Crashy is on his last legs. He IS 8 years old now. I have been planning to get a new desktop before school starts. I even had #1 son customize one for me on the Dell website--when he wasn't busy with his murderer-for-hire business. I was all ready to order it today. That had been the plan all weekend. I had informed HH several weeks ago. Not that he ever consults me about his major purchases Scout/swimming pool/generators/electric fireplaces/Case collector truck knives/pimpmobile parts. HH agreed that I needed a new one. It's been a long time. I'm still running Windows ME, people. Which I DO like. Perhaps it's the ME part. So the plan was in place, the order thingy was all set up. All I needed to do was submit my credit info and order. Until last night, when HH appeared with his monkey wrench.

"We really need a new lawnmower. Your grandma has that one she just got fixed. It has a snowplow attachment and everything. It was $3200-something new. Even though it's 10 years old now, it's a good mower. She hardly ever used it. I asked her how much she wanted for it, and she said, 'How much do you think it's worth?' I told her I wouldn't have any idea what it's worth. She said, 'The people who just fixed it say it's worth $850.' So I told her that sounded fair to me. I can pick it up one night this week. We can get her the money whenever. She's not going to make me pay before I take it."

Bye, bye, Crashy-replacement.

First of all, I've been saving here and there since the beginning of the year for vacation, which worked out just right and got paid for and we never missed it because of my careful budgeting, and for Christmas, because somehow, HH and I have ended up with 8 grandchildren to buy gifts for. It used to be only 3, which was certainly doable, but now there are some little steps involved, and you can't buy for the reals and not treat the steps equally, because they're kids and don't understand. But that's another gripe for a later day. So while I can come up with $850 and not really feel it, I can not pull $1700 out of the Royal Crown of Hillmomba and pretend we're made of money. It stopped growing on trees with the last ice storm. #1 son even put in a word for me about my computer, because, well, a computer is more fun for him to tinker with than a lawnmower. And would get used daily, year-round, and for my job, besides. Not like that lawnmower that will get used once a week for maybe another month, then sit in the barn for 8 months.

Secondly, I'm not going to take my 90-year-old grandma's lawnmower until that cash is in her arthritic old hand. That ain't right. Besides, she's giving HH a piano absolutely free. So I've laid out $850 on the kitchen counter, because HH says he is going to go get the mower after work today, and I am going to play some bar trivia with my old Lower Basementia buddy this evening and won't be home.

There is no joy in Hillmomba.

This saga will continue