M. came at noon to roast a chicken. R.A. had left at eleven to go to the New Jersey aquarium. I pulled a bathrobe around myself, except for that arm, and answered the door. I staggered back to lie down again, and might have drifted a little. M. started his cooking, but went to J.'s to get a baking pan, and then knocked continuously on the door again until I let him back in. He'd thought he'd left it unlocked. I went back to bed. M. turned the TV on to the Phillies game, and yelled about all the plays.
At around three-thirty, M. started yelling about the other team that they were all "faggots." I decided it was time to get up and tell him off. "They're all faggots and lesbians, patting each others' butts!" he yelled. Well, he lacks all understanding and logic. This was not exactly news for me, but I couldn't figure out why he threw "lesbians" in there. "Faggots" was for him clearly the worst insult he knows.
I went into the living room. "Don't use that language," I said. "Or you can leave."
"Sorry," M. said.
I didn't start on a whole sensitivity discussion, between feeling it would be wasted on him and being still semi-wrapped in a bathrobe. I went to take my shower. Hopefully he'll remember that I don't like hearing the word "faggot" if I keep reinforcing it. R. came home while I was in the shower.
Once I was dressed and came out to socialize, so to speak, R. told me that the aquarium had hippopotami and penguins. She'd had a good time there, and I was glad of that. She said she'd wanted to bring a baby penguin back with her.
I was somewhat cranky generally, though, and when M. started picking fights, I told him to cut it out. R. said a man in the group she'd gone with, B., had put his arm around her and asked her out. She told him she had a boyfriend. M. started talking about breaking up with her. I told him that R. had said the appropriate thing. She had gotten B.'s cell number, to just be friends. M. told her to give the paper with the number on it to him. I missed some of what followed, as I was in another room, but I think he wanted to rip it up. I don't know why he gets insanely jealous.
He made R. cry, and I remained in the fight, mostly sticking up for R. I didn't want to get involved in relationship things with them, but I remembered R.'s grief counselor saying that I wanted tranquility in my home. I wouldn't know what to do with tranquility if I had it, but I couldn't see why M. had to get R. all upset after her fun trip.
After this had all died down some, we went out shopping. I wanted poison ivy relief cream, and M. had forgotten brown sugar for the sweet potatoes. I plundered the local Rite Aid of their supply of remedies for poison ivy, and then we picked up brown sugar and stopped at a Starbucks for coffee for R. I hadn't felt like making coffee earlier, when R. complained of being sleepy, but I made chocolate puerh tea. R. started crying in the Rite Aid, and saying she wanted to live with her cousin, R.M.
As we drove back to the apartment, M. said that R. couldn't call her cousin unless she explained to him, M., why exactly she wanted to live with R.M. I told M. that R. could call R.M. without having him approve it, or something like that. "Do you think you'd be more comfortable there?" I asked R. She thought so.
When we got to the apartment, I went back to the computer, and M. called R.M., telling him that R. wanted to live with him. R.M. said he was in the middle of something, and would talk to R. tomorrow. I'm not sure if R.'s going to end up living with R.M. I have the feeling that if he wanted that, she would have come to live with him and his wife to start with. I haven't done anything too bad to R. except for being bossy and snapping at her every so often. My conscience is clear.
We had dinner, then I took off for the house, as I'd forgotten something there. Mom and Dad were watching yesterday's Phillies game, which Dad had taped. I experimented with several of the poison ivy remedies I'd picked up, most of which seemed to help to some degree. A couple were homopathic. I don't know when Rite Aid started carrying homeopathic remedies on the shelves with modern medicine, but the wash to clear off the poison ivy oil -- urishiol? -- seemed to make my arm feel better.
Not too much else going on here. Dad was watching one of the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, but wandered upstairs. I have H.'s graduation party to get to tomorrow. The address for it is Philadelphia, but I'm sure it's an entirely different part than I'm in. I think it may be in Northeast Philadelphia. I should have followed up with getting directions to it a week or so ago. At least I got her a card and an iTunes gift card. Hopefully I'll find this place tomorrow.