Three Months. Three Months. Three Months.

Most people cringe when I tell them we currently live with my Mother-in-law. They drool and lose consciousness when I tell them we’ve lived with her just short of five years.

Usually, this is a decent arrangement – she’s a generally cool person, she works overnights as a mother/baby nurse at one of the downtown hospitals, and we can generally mix staying out of her way with giving her Grandma time pretty well.

Except. Except when she feels the need to assert that this is HER house (large and barren it would be without us) and her rules are what matters (and exposed unfinished bathroom plumbing and a front door on the front porch and hardwood floors that aren’t actually sealed with anything).

She’s a native North Dakotan Lutheran Scandihoovian Lake Wobegoner, and every once in a while she reminds us of this by whipping out the most astounding, post-dated, passive-aggressive shit you’ve ever heard. She saves up digs for years.

Three more months. Three more months. Three more months.

. . . .

We ultimately cancelled the entire trip, as expected. John, the promoter for the Hello Dave show, was apparently very cool about it. SO I’ve changed my day off from Friday to Thursday, and I will have both a house build day and rehearsal tomorrow, then work friday, build day Saturday.

I went through and added up all the build days I can take between when the house started and mid-August, and subtracting tentative band travel dates, I still have 25 workdays, or 200 hours. I need 100, and to keep up with the new rules I should have 150, so even with no delays and trips planned I should be fine.

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