At work there is a steep spiral staircase between the first floor (where I am) and the basement. I had to go down there that day to check some records and was breaking in my new shoes. (Which, like nearly ALL my new shoes this summer, hurt like fucking hell after five minutes of walking! Dammit!) I ended up slipping about five stairs from the bottom and did a skid onto my back. Fortunately I caught myself with my left arm and was otherwise all right, though the arm was rather red and acquired a scratch. I got lucky, people have had to go on medical leave for tumbling down those stairs, or so I've heard.

For some stupid-ass reason I told Dave about this and he starts getting on me to NOT get injured in any way. And when I say any way, I mean not even a paper cut, which I'd also gotten at work that day. I'm all "Well, that goes for you too, considering how you're always having heavy stuff dropped on you or whatever." He kept on ignoring that-"I'm a guy, that happens, it's my job blah blah, YOU'RE not supposed to get hurt, I'm having a male chauvinist moment here!" Hey, as far as I'm concerned, what's good for the gander... and he's not allowed to get hurt either, HAH.

Auntie D is no longer talking to Mom because Mom talked to "the enemy." She wouldn't go in the house the other night when dropping the grandparents off. Mom is amused and wonders what Auntie D. will do at the baptism, since it's her grandchild and Mom's the godmother. Presumably Laurie and Ron will just not show up. Either way, it won't be too pleasant, I bet.

Again returning to my beloved theme of duck sex, in the school newspaper the other day I saw a cartoon by Jackson (yes, I know him, I was in lit mag with him, he does rocking cartoons that I love. Even though the one I'm talking about isn't on his site yet, sniff sniff) showing two ducks humping and quacking and him yelling "Oh, for God's sake, get a room!" My sentiments exactly...

We had another blackout in town today around 1:30. By now we all learned our lesson on how this is not a work break!, so my coworker and I hid out in his office and gossiped. The power came back on 20 minutes later, alas. Then it went off about five minutes later, came back on five minutes later. Bleah.

My coworker got the stomach flu over the weekend and hadn't been feeling good on Tuesday. (She's better now, btw.) Since this is the same one I caught the flu from earlier, while on the phone Tuesday night I made a crack to Dave that "hey, if I get the stomach flu, at least it'll be on the weekend." I'm thinking hey, at least I'd get out of the baptism. He's all "No! That's when I'm going to see you then."

I guess they were serious about that Sunday visit thing, huh. Demma and Scott even left me a message through Dave that *winkwinknudgenudge* Demma's coming ALONE. In other words, don't tell Mom. Dave is totally psyched to see me, even if getting nervous about the parents on their home turf. (And who wouldn't be nervous about that one?)

I have decided NOT to tell Mom about him coming. As far as she knows, Demma may come by for a short time on Sunday for her books. (Mom has been e-mailing me about them ALL day today trying to figure out exactly which books these were and did I mean magazines, because she threw out a bunch of magazines and will Demma take money instead if they were hers? It's driving me bonkers.) I don't like ambushing her, but I suspect that if we don't, this is gonna drag on for even more months than it has. She'll be all freaking about the house inside, but will be polite on the outside. And if I supposedly don't know and Dave's known for pulling surprise visits, this should go off fairly well. I hope, anyway. Hopefully she'll get to like him even if he isn't a college graduate and whatnot. And my grandparents won't be there, so that's one less issue.

What I'm worried about is that I still think my mom's going to have to get used to the idea of me and him being together, even after meeting him. Like, it would help if I had him and her meet a few times more or talk on the phone or something, plus give her months of time even after THAT to get used to the idea, much like we're doing with his mom.

However... I don't know how I'm going to convince Dave to keep it a secret even longer than after Sunday is over. Neither of us likes hiding the whole thing, and we're both bugged by it. I'd rather (in some respects more than others) just get it out instead of pretending. I know he'd much rather do that. But if it would make relations with Mom a lot more pleasant if we waited months and months till she was happy with and used to the idea of him being in the family, it might be worth it to keep on lying.

Of course, the question is how many months do we keep waiting? My instincts say till around oh, Christmas and give her six months worth of get used to time, plus drag him around to do all the relative crap for the first time then, but I highly doubt that's gonna happen. He's going to want to tell earlier than that, probably a lot earlier than that. Hell, I'd guess by the end of the summer if not earlier. Sigh. I just don't want to blow things and make them even more upset and tense than they are guaranteed to be by dropping the bomb at the wrong time to set off panic.

Oh, why am I trying to be so careful about Mom's feelings? She's gonna be a basketcase on some level no matter when I tell her. Losing her baby girl and all of that, for real instead of just freaking because I don't live at home any more. Of course everyone will yell that it's too soon. I know, I know, that's why the long engagement, but that won't matter to them. The "Well, you're an adult now, you're getting married, so I'm going to be snotty now when you ask me some question about money or taxes" attitude that will most likely come up. The debate about money and ceremonies and planning and all that shit will come flying at my head. Dad's side of the family wanting to see where my big rock of an engagement ring is and wanting to know if Dave can support me and then most likely ripping on him for not getting me a rock, even though not having one was my frigging idea. They won't believe that, of course. I dread all of this like poison.

Right now I suspect we're in the pleasant point of the engagement, where moms don't know and it's just friends and idle debate instead of full-on war. Part 2 after all parents know is gonna be pure hell.

I don't WANT the wedding to be about our families combining- how godawful is that going to be?

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