I'd Say We've Conquered This Town
Wednesday, November 24th, 2004
I'd Say We've Conquered This Town
A Dom Entry
Today was Tour Day for the Monaghan family. Minus one. Well, actually, it'd be a lovely sentiment to say that it was Tour Day for all of us, even though Matt was probably doing his touring somewhere in the Austrian wilderness with a pair of young and obnoxious newlyweds. I'm sure he felt our family connect across the distance while he was destroying his bike over some mountainous boulder. Tears were undoubtedly shed, (for good or bad).
I was woken up by my fiancé slipping his way out of bed for school, early this morning. I napped through most of the sounds of him getting ready before finally getting myself out of bed and put something on, figuring I should take him to school if I was going to use the car today for my Tour. So, sleepily, I drove him to work while yet unshowered, and he still gave me three kisses before he left, which ensured that I would have a very good day. And most especially since I didn't have to go to work today and was able to sleep in another two or three hours after I'd gotten back home. (My poor Billy, I love you. Tomorrow you can sleep in and I'll go to school with the kids).
When I finally got up, Mum and Dad were already wandering about the house downstairs... I'll never understand people who prefer to get up before nine. You know, when they're your parents, I tend to think that they do it just so they can scold you for sleeping in after. "Do you even know what a sunrise is, Dominic?" ... "Didn't you just get off a plane?" I wanted to ask. "And, for your information, I get tired after a night of love-making in the shower." Well, needless to say, some arguments went unexpressed, anyway. But I took the scolding with a smile.
The Tour - (I think it deserves to capitalized. It was my first tour, a rather good one, and frankly, it was a little silly as far as tours go, so to emphasise that fact, I'd like it to stand out as much as possible) - so as I was saying, The Tour was in itself very short. I took Mum and Dad to look at trees and rocks and bushes, and more notably, the river. Mum adored the river, of course. She's always wanted to live on the ocean, and deciding that the river was just as cold and just as wet, she's now realised that where she'd actually like to live would be "between a river and the ocean so that she could go fishing in her backyard and sailing in her front." Also, she's decided she wants a boat. And fish for dinner. Dad, on the other hand, wishes I'd never shown her the river.
To please Mum, though, I took her and Dad out for fish and chips at lunch. Mum was satisfied, and ate her fish with a grin. Dad couldn't understand why Americans still haven't figured out how to make chips. And I spilled tartar sauce on myself in attempts to dip a very flimsy piece of fish. It was a brilliant time, I'd say. Especially afterward when we visited the post office and McKenzie asked if I was using "fishy cologne."
Anyway, McKenzie was surprisingly getting things done at the office. She greeted my parents with a twirl and a giggle; I'm sure the idea of my having parents has never entered her head, and she was, unfortunately, "too excited about it to work anymore" after having met them. ...Something about them looking just like me... Despite that fact, Mum and Dad had good time looking around the office, asking me questions, (McKenzie asked a few as well), and everyone got to learn how annoying bits of paper get from one person's house (or the government) to their homes.
When we finally got away from the post office, I decided to take my parents to Towerston, just for a bit, to see Billy's school. Well, the outside of it. Unfortunately, during hours we aren't allowed on the grounds, which is something I've been disappointed about for a while now. Mum said she wished she could have seen Billy's class; all the little students lined up in their desks. But Dad thought it was better that she didn't have the chance to unleash her sentiment on the innocent little lads and lasses. I suppose that's true. I'd be too tempted to unleash sentiment of a different kind, on one lad in particular. Which, I suppose, is another reason why they have visitor restrictions in buildings where so many small children are present.
After seeing the school, Mum proclaimed herself tired. I scolded her for having gotten up so early, as jetlagged as she is, and she pinched me and said I had "such cheek" and should go to my room as soon as we were home "for reasons of bad behaviour." But I did as I was told and as soon as we arrived back at the house, went to my room to write a bit in my diary while Mum and Dad went for a nap in the guest room. They were still asleep when I left to pick Billy up from school, and remained so even after Billy and I had gotten back home. A welcome bit of privacy, really, as Billy and I both got a very proper kiss at the doorway and, because of it, felt quite sneaky about ourselves for the rest of the day.
So, Tour Day is over. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Billy's been busying himself about food all evening, and I'm sure he won't stop until after we've all finished eating tomorrow night. I feel rotten that he has to worry like this so much, but I think maybe the food is taking his mind off some of the bigger things we've been thinking about recently. I just hope it goes over well. Not that I think it won't. Because it will. Mum and Dad are going to love the idea. Just like they love Billy.
We're getting married... We're getting married.
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