I'm afraid my nineteen year-old daughter, Kelsey, has lost it.
We leave in nine days for Colorado to attend my son's WEDDING (I can not believe it), and she's arranging things. In fact, I think she wants to set up the whole trip. She worries about me, you know, is constantly making sure I remember things. Things like buying toilet paper, or locking the doors at night, reminding me not to text when I drive - stuff like that.
I believe she is convinced that I'm getting dangerously close to the old lady side of the hill. And, she's probably right. I do forget a lot of things, but at this stage in my life I kind of feel entitled to. After all, at a certain age, don't we have enough brownie points stored up to coast a bit?
My mom, who is in her eighties, glories in her "crabby old woman" status. I understand that. I think I should be able to embrace my forgetfulness.
At any rate, part of her organizing for the trip is arranging a pet sitter. For her fish.
His name is Schwart. Or, Schwarty, if you prefer. It's apparently pronounced "Shh vart". Unfortunately, his (or her, who really knows with fish?) name rhymes with "fart", to the utter glee of my younger children. We spent a few weeks on this chuckle.
Klaryssia still doesn't get it right. I told her to just call him/her Kelsey's fish.
So, Kelsey loves this little fishy. Her college roomate Lindsey won him/her in a rousing game of Bob for the Fish during the Halloween festivities at school. Apparently Kelsey begged. Lindsey said she had a bad track record with fish (if you know what I mean), and Kelsey promised she would be the official Caregiver to Schwart.
She takes this obligation very very seriously.
So seriously, in fact, that while we are gone, not just anyone will be allowed to take care of him/her. She is interviewing her friends, asking probing questions like: "Have you ever had a fish? If you had a fish, were you, in fact, the primary caregiver? If you were the primary caregiver, has said fish died on your watch?"
One friend, when text-messaged the above queries, responded: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA"
And I quote.
So far, she's asked four friends. One, we see above. One asked if it counted that she goes fishing. Kelsey asked what she uses for bait: feeder fish. No go.
The only likely candidate so far, BFF Al, who cared for a salt-water tank of thirteen fish for FOUR years, has classes beginning soon, so they aren't sure his schedule will be flexible enough to fit Schwarty in.
Anyone in the Southish Seattle area willing and qualified? I'm pretty sure Kelsey won't be traveling to the wedding if we can't get this resolved, and she's in it.
You know how it is, a girl and her fish.