One thing I don't do well is what my mom and her family used to call "visit". I last about an hour on a good day, and then I need a 3-day break. This includes all kinds of interpersonal interactions, and especially the phone. If you're one of the rare few who have ever gotten me to chat with you on a phone, major kudos. I actually like being around people, but once the aspie overload hits, my brain melts and I slide right out of this dimension.
The last couple of weeks have been a nightmare. By some twist of fate, and this iconic truth has only recently revealed its true horror, people feel compelled to talk to me because, of all things, I'm a good listener.
Just writing that made me dizzy.
Scott's real dad from Florida showed up last week and spent four days at our house. His arrival was like a bomb going off. I had just sat through a "joint adventure" (knee replacement) class with Scott's mom, two long hours of graphic pictures and exercise demonstrations. We got out and phones started ringing. Boom, guess who's here, he's at her house with one of the sisters, omg his mom freaked out because that sister has MRSA, wtf, how long has this been going on, apparently at least a month of secrecy and extreme tension, now the whole family is freaking out.
Reality tv has nothing on my in-laws.
And then the rest of the week was an 80 year old Jehovah Witness in my house shutting down the 4th of July and his ex-wife's 80th birthday party. That's right, no cake. When I turn 80, if some old zombie kills my joy over religious convictions, I'm gonna poke his eyes out. And I can say that because I grew up Mennonite.
But the worst part was the compulsive talking. For 4 solid days. I'm serious. No, he wouldn't go watch tv or take a nap. When Scott got home from work the first day, I said "your turn", and I had to explain to his dad that now I'm on lazy face time. I spent eight polite hours nodding and looking interested, I'm off the clock. My own dad doesn't get that.
And that was just one day. *dayam*
This last Tuesday I got a phone call. Scott's mom was in a wreck only two miles from my house.
She's ok, thank goodness, but bruised up from the seatbelt and airbag, and amazingly was the worst one with injuries. I came back and got Scott's step dad and drove up to the hospital. He's a talker, too. Over 80. For five hours.... -omg-
And then I sat at the hospital with Scott's mom for two days. She's not a quiet person.
Before I sound just terrible, ok it's already too late, I have to beg off with a lot of hospital time I've put in already over the last seven months with other people, which cancels that out. But I worked out the math. In ten days' time, which is 240 hours, I spent 121 solid hours listening to three people over 80
talk. And that's not including a couple of phone calls from my dad over that weekend. This went way beyond my brain melting. I'm still picking sticky pieces off the walls and trying to cram them back into my cranium. The only way I could keep the days right in my mind (I'm notorious for showing up to appointments on the wrong day) was by counting down to ComicCon live on Spike. Which I missed because I was at the doctor making sure a little sore on my lip wasn't MRSA. Just the idea is finally going to cure my lip picking, I think.
hashtag asperger