The Angry Teen and his Hungry Brother

Somehow yesterday I lost an hour. My original plan for dinner was to order pizza at about five, which would mean that it would probably get here right around the time my husband walked through the door. You know what they say about best laid plans.

Usually at four in the afternoon, I'm watching my favorite, bitchy judge, "Judge Judy." On the station that I watch it on it airs for a full hour. Instead of watching her Honor, I was talking on the phone to a young man who wishes to be on our school board. Every time I would try to hang up the phone, he would start on another topic. When I was finally able to hang up the phone, I looked at the television and noticed that the news was on. So, I ordered the pizza, honestly thinking to myself that it was a little bit after five when I had placed the order.

I get busy clearing all the crap off our kitchen table setting the table, telling Wrestling Fan to grab the Parmesan and the crushed peppers to put on the table. I sit down to watch a little bit a television, upset that overeager young man wanting to run for school board kept me on the phone long enough to make me miss my four o'clock date. I'm flipping through the channels when who do I see? Mrs. Judy Scheindlin herself on the channel I watch her on every day at four.

The doorbell rings. Wrestling Fan answers the door and why yes, it is the pizza man with our pizzas a whole hour earlier than I had planned. Of course, WF wanted to help himself right away, but I told him he had to wait until dad got home before we started eating. It was torture for me him having to smell pizza wafting throughout the house. He Ibroke down, begging me to let him have a piece. By this time, it was almost five, so we both sat at the table and ate some pizza.

Now onto the angry teen, which would be Guitar Teen. He came down at 10:40 last night wanting me to take him across town so that he could hang out at a friend's house. His curfew is midnight, so I told him no because it was too late and he would have to return in an hour. Needless to say he was very angry with me. He went stomping upstairs, came downstairs a few minutes later and went outside to punch "Bob" (one of those exercise dummies) sans gloves.

He came in a few minutes later asking for band-aids. I guess that'll show me, eh?