Two reasons why Tommy makes no sense:

and I’m not talking about his normal, indecipherable way of speaking.  I’m talking about the things he says or does that leave you scratching your head and shrugging your shoulders. 

#1.  Tommy still has a home phone.  That alone isn’t the strange thing, exactly.  Of course, he doesn’t actually use it for out-going calls, as he has a cell phone.  The only calls that ever come on that line are telemarketers looking for my sister.  He also never answers the phone itself – he just likes to use the caller id to see who’s calling.  There lies the main issue.

A while ago, Tommy used to have this phone’s base located near the entry way into the living room, from the kitchen.  It made sense – it was centrally located and somewhat handy, even though the phone had no real purpose.  If it did, this would make even more sense.  For some reason, Tommy decided to move the base.  He put it upstairs, an area of the house that he really never uses.  But he has it on a balcony overlooking the living room.  So when he sits on the couch watching TV, he can see the phone but it’s still approximately 1 landing and 14 steps away, not to mention the distance between the couch and the first step.  The phone itself is always charging in the base, so there’s no other way to answer it (or peep at the caller id) without actually running up the steps.  When I say run up the steps, this is an absolute MUST if he wants to get there on time, as he somehow has it set for only 2 rings before it goes to voice mail.  He is unable to to change it back, and has a history of fucking with it and not knowing exactly how he did so.  Luckily it’s getting close to Christmas time, as that sucker has been playing “Joy to the World” as a ring tone for the last 3 years.  At least now, it sounds like he planned it.

Now assuming that Tommy actually makes it up the stairs on time, he’ll just squint at the display and wonder (outloud) who is calling him.  This is if he makes it, and if this happens, sacrifices must be made.  This includes any remotes, food, or traumatized cats that happen to be in his path or on his lap at the time of the first “Joy to the World” notes.  He will then continue to wonder out loud, as he has no filter between mouth and brain, until the voice mail actually picks up.  I used to try to help him out by interjecting “It’s just a telemarketer” or by advising him to pick up and hang up.  That never works, so I quit doing it.  I think he prefers the mystery of it all, or maybe the hope that someone actually wants to talk to him keeps him going.  I dunno.  The voice mail then picks up – a long, droning, slightly insulting message that he personally recorded – basically telling the caller that if you don’t leave a message, how is he going to call you back, dumbass?  Well, he doesn’t say dumbass, but the inflection in his voice screams it.  The voice mail picks up as a computerized message is in midstream, asking that my sister call back this number or that.  Tommy will then make the lonely trek back to the couch, all the while muttering about wondering who that coulda been, and what they might want.  At least with the old phone location, the trek wasn’t quite so far.  I don’t get the new placement, though, unless it’s to make the beep of the voicemail warning slightly less annoying.  I’m sure if I mapped out the distance, the new phone location is only 5-10 feet at the most further away than the old one, so it really doesn’t make it less annoying.  See, Tommy never feels the need to actually delete the damn message.  The phone will beep every 15 seconds or so, and I’ve seen him sit through this for hours without it bothering him.  Me?  Drives me batshit.  I just don’t get it.

 

#2.  Ever since Steve screwed over Tommy and performed identity theft, while charging his credit cards with various, unnecessary items, Tommy has owned an above-ground pool.  I guess it magically showed up to Tommy’s surprise, as he claims to have not wanted it, yet didn’t seem to bitch until it was in place, and Steve was kicked out.  *shrug*  Either way, it’s a pain in the ass and gets no use whatsoever.  Unless, of course, you count the time that I was in it just a week or 2 ago, while cleaning out leaves.  See, in western PA, it gets cold early.  Like….freezing cold.  Tommy wanted to clear out the leaves before we “winterized” the pool.  I use quotes for a reason that will become painfully clear in a bit.  Bear with me.

So to clear out these leaves, I have to actually help him by getting in the pool.  Normally, one would assume I’d have a pool skimmer- one of those mesh deals on a long pole.  Nope – I got a plastic rake.  It seems the pool was supposed to come with silly little accessories like, say…a skimmer…chemicals….stairs.  Yeah – there’s no easy way to get in.  Tommy must have started complaining about the pool before that stuff came in, so it mysteriously never showed up.  All there is, is a big, round vat of frigid water.  Next to it now is a construction ladder – you know, to make it a bit more white trash.  Tommy dug up 2 pairs of hip-waders that used to belong to Steve and his son.  This was actually a good idea…it would have been even better if the hip-waders I had didn’t have holes in the knees.  I clambered over the edge, dropped in to testicle-deep water, and felt the slow, creeping cold pour into my toes.  Lovely.  Maybe if I didn’t have a rake, I could have gotten out of there a bit quicker, but I had to simply swirl the rake around and hope the leaves were nice enough to stay flat so that I could dump them out.  Half an hour later, I got out of the pool and took a warm shower to help stave off the ice forming in the webbing of my toes. 

While annoying, that wasn’t exactly my point.  See, water tends to freeze when it gets cold, and it then expands.  In a container such as…well…a large above-ground pool in western PA, this is a problem.  Now the water could probably be drained, but Tommy spent all year hoping for rain to fill it, and this would kill all his progress.  He won’t pay for pool water refills, and refuses to use well water to fill it. 

His solution?  Put a tarp on that fucker!  See, if we pull a tarp over the pool, it will insulate it and keep it from freezing!  We just have to keep using a hoe and break up the ice before it gets really solid, until it gets unseasonably warm!  Then we can pull the tarp over, secure it, and keep all the warm air inside the pool to keep it heated!

…

 

Does that make sense to anyone else?  I mean, it IS a little-known fact that tarps are an ancient warming technique.  The Sherpas survive in their harsh climate by draping themselves with a well-secured tarp to help keep the cold at bay.  Sigh.  When I made the mistake of letting on that I thought this wasn’t so great of an idea, he not only assured me it’d be fine, but that maybe he should move the tarp into the garage for a bit, so that it could warm up.  THAT will make the insulation even more insulation-y. 

I took a page from Jim on NBC’s “The Office.”  Whenever Dwight approaches him with an idea, plan, or alliance offer, Jim’s response is always, “Absolutely, I do.”  Now when Tommy comes up with a brilliant plan, I simply shrug, say “ok” and make sure that I’m in no way involved in the planning.  That way, when it goes horribly wrong, I have no blame shed on me and have a fun story to tell…or type.