After Grunt Labor and I said “Sí,” we returned back home.
Just the two of us.
Let the married life begin – wedded bliss, right?
Until a couple months later.
When we got two new residents.
Nope, not babies.
Yep, Nick and Brandon.
Just as Nick was getting kicked out of his current residence (we won’t go into the details there), Brandon was switching jobs and moving to Atlanta. He was able to work from home though, so he moved in with us.
One big happy family.
Lucky, lucky me.
The bonus room morphed into a semi-pig sty. A trail of Skoal cans, Diet Dr. Pepper Bottles, and Miller Lite cans wrapped around the room.
Yep, that was Nick’s room.
He did share his beer with me, so that’s a plus.
The guest bedroom was still neat and orderly, although at least 30 pairs of shoes, 100 ties, and all the latest fashion trends had moved in.
Yep, that was Brandon’s room.
Luckily by this point, Grunt Labor and I had two bathrooms. Nick and Brandon shared the upstairs one, so I was not subjected to those smells that no person should ever have to live through, as I was when Grunt Labor, Nick and I lived together.
When this whole arrangement was discussed, I thought for sure I would end up hating Brandon by the end of it. I was wrong – Nick was the one who drove me damn crazy.
Nick was a on a sticker system that was taped to our fridge. He got a smiley face for every day that he made a good choice.
Brandon started his online dating life in the middle of our living room. When he would go on dates, he sent us addresses of where he was going in case the girl he was meeting turned out to be a serial killer.
Nick copped out with online dating, deleting his profile only days after he created it.
I do have to say that he is back on top of his dating game though – I’m very proud of him – He’s even getting all smiley faces on his sticker chart these days.
However, both are still single, ladies. The kid is even pulling for them – she needs cousins.
I would come home from a long day of trying to teach sixth graders who couldn’t care less about reading and writing to find Brandon on the front porch, feet propped up, working from his laptop. He would grin and say, “Isn’t it beautiful today? I’ve been out here ‘working’ all day.”
I wouldn’t know, ***hole, I’ve been confined to a classroom where the air conditioner only works 50% of the time and surrounded by numerous 11 year olds who get sweaty and smelly when there is no air conditioner.
I converted them into Reba fans. Not her music (although, I’m a huge fan of Reba’s music – I knew all the words to Fancy at age 5), but her show. Family time was spent in front of the television every night laughing at the funniest redhead in America.
Brandon always paid his rent on time. Nick never did.
Keep in mind their rent was only whatever the overage of the electric bill and water bill was, based on mine and Grunt Labor’s bill before the family of four.
It totaled up to about $30 a person per month -A.K.A. room & board circa 1930.
There was the one time Brandon washed the Tennessee blanket immediately upon waking up. I’m not sure what happened there…
Grunt Labor, Nick and Brandon played enough golf to reach their life quota – or at least it seemed that way to me.
I’m sure that’s why they started asking if Andy could come to the driving range with them, instead of just leaving.
There was the time we had a yard sale and my dad sent over at least five motorcycle helmets to sale.
We didn’t make much money, but we sure had a hell of a lot of fun wearing the helmets on our imaginary bikes.
Nick would often yell, “Don’t come upstairs for about 15 minutes.”
I have no idea what happened during that 15 minutes, nor do I ever want to know.
And the closest I’ll ever get to college dorm living.
But, they still have a spot in the basement anytime they want it.
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