Bon día! Son of Bossy here,
forced against his will volunteering to weigh in with the goings-on back home.
Bossy has been gone three weeks. Or, to give bliss its deserving respect, approximately 27,360 minutes. But already the house is adorned with the marks of machismo:
The most interesting thing about living in a Bossy-less universe is that so many of her life lessons endure. Take, for example, her pleas to maintain a
well-ordered living space:
Or her constant endeavors to keep a well-stocked refrigerator representing all corners of the nutrition pyramid:
It’s true that life sans Bossy isn’t quite as glamorous as expected. The family Dane misses Bossy so much she can’t even keep her ears straight:
But Son of Bossy thinks the Dane is being a bit of a baby. After all, who dares to pout in an environment as nurturing as this?
We’ve all been dealing with our melancholy in different ways. Son of Bossy compensates by keeping careful watch of his mother’s movements: I think she’s in Carolina? Dakota? Myanmar?
Bossy’s Daughter copes by generally ignoring the circumstance completely, instead gallivanting around town with her older theater friends and attending to her own circuit of sleepovers. But Bossy’s daughter does a nice job, when home, of mimicking many of Bossy’s habits—such as walking around while brushing her teeth, and filling the house with the loud clatter of her peck-style typing.
Meanwhile Bossy’s husband passes the bulk of his days manning the Strategic House Initiative Table, where his role is to guide the perpetually cursing Bossy to the closest Mocha Latte.
Son of Bossy won’t even venture into the implications of how Bossy’s Husband’s bass somehow manages to be situated in all of Bossy’s favorite spots throughout the house. We’ll just call it cute. Because psychological transference doesn’t have the same romantic ring:
In other news previously reported here, ohmyfeckinggodBarackO’Bamacametomyhighschool. Luckily Son of Bossy kept his cool around Barack O’Boyfriend. That’s probably why he had the presence of mind to snap this beautifully centered artistic masterpiece of Obama entering the gymnasium:
Obama’s speech was brilliant, and although Bossy complained that no one captured Barack and Bossy’s son sharing a moment, she didn’t realize a photo does exist of the two soulmates, and here it is:
The Barack town meeting invigorated Son of Bossy and other members of the community—and soon the Obama Headquarters was overflowing with volunteers. In one instance, they shuttled the phone-bankers out to a speech given by a little known politician who Son of Bossy likes to call John Kerry. Son of Bossy ended up with a lovely hand-written note from the former presidential candidate:
Son of Bossy doesn’t really know what the note says because penmanship isn’t a prerequisite for congress–but it’s either “Good luck at Columbia” or “For Christ’s sake, hire me to speak: I need the work.”
Apart from the political excitement, a few days ago Son of Bossy got a chance to meet his future classmates and roommate at Columbia University’s Days on Campus program:
Other than that, life goes on much as it has. Bossy’s humor is greatly missed, as are her occasional wild-hair tirades and her late-night monopolization of the family room, and did Bossy’s son mention the wild-hair tirades? Ah, those were the days.
One last thing: in order to hedge against the inevitable divorce papers, Bossy’s Husband requested at least one representation of the neat, orderly, and tidy house that the family has worked to maintain:
It’s been fun. Son of Bossy, signing out.