Day 657: An Attempt at Reasoning With Tuesday

For the past several days, the tribe has been experiencing a form of plague – not the kind that eventually ends in death, but the kind that slowly, mercilessly sucks the very life and soul out of its victim, replacing it with snot and mucus.  I, fortunately, have managed to escape the plague that has descended upon the tribe, thus, landing me the role of “caregiver” to those taken ill which include the tribal leader, Tuesday and Wednesday.

I will state now and for the record that I would rather have a fleas of a thousand pigmies infest my armpits than endure a moment of the native’s behavior whilst under the weather.  The behavior that ensues during such conditions and ill-health is more painful to endure than having bamboo shoved up underneath my fingernails.  Yes, it’s just fucking delightful.  You see, the natives, being of such a young age and not having mastered the finer points of expelling mucus out of their nostrils, require constant, if not frequent, monitoring to ensure that the mucus draining out of their noses does not end up in the mouths, or worse, down their throats, causing frightening coughing fits and vomiting of mucus mixed with half digested sustenance.  Had enough yet?  But, wait, there’s more.  Because the natives are feeling completely awful, they make life for me, the caregiver, that much more awful by constantly lamenting the littlest, insignificant infractions, such as not being able to find a particular toy that is obviously in front of them.  Indeed, it has been an awful four days.

Beginning yesterday, the natives showed signs of health improvement, much to my relief.  The tribal leader began showing signs of illness on Sunday evening last, adding to the growing list of the infirmed.  Their overall health is significantly better than it was in prior days, with only minor coughing fits and only a little less frequent mucus cleaning sessions.  The increase in their activity provided further proof of their improving health as well as the growth in appetite.  Fantastic!  Two natives on the mend and only one tribe member still exhibiting signs of illness!

However, this success story celebration was to be short-lived.  You see, with the increase in activity of the natives comes more opportunities for mischief and thus, more opportunities for vandalism.  Sigh.

Permit me to set the stage, if you will: the large structure housing the electronic media box and digital media player is made entirely of wood, and a few hinges and screws.  Aside from the two large openings for the aforesaid media box and player, there is a closed in storage area at the bottom of the structure, closed by two wooden doors that close a certain way so that one cannot be closed without the other being closed first.  Not difficult, but hey, we’re not dealing with rocket science here anyways.

Since the tribe discovered a burning plastic smell, which turned out to be a burning surge suppressor ( which is another story and shall be told another time ), a different arrangement was employed by removing the digital media rack and arranging the remaining furniture differently.  Thus, opening up the vulnerability of the storage area at the bottom of the large wooden structure.  I shall refer to this as mistake number fucking one.

Today, Tuesday managed to access the storage area by easily opening the doors which enclosed it.  She was quickly admonished to leave it the hell alone and the area was closed again, properly, all witnessed by an overzealous Tuesday.

Several hours later was when the alleged vandalism occurred.  Having not been present during said vandalism, I can only imagine that it went thus: Tuesday, being a quick study at how the storage doors were operated, again got the doors opened, however, instead of focusing on the contents of the storage area (which only contains several electronic games, old media tapes and the like ) she instead used the door as a seat to enable front row seating to the program that was on the electronic media box.  I’m assuming that it did not take long for her weight of thirty-eight pounds to crack and break the door, and I’m assuming that it also took very little time for her to alert me that the door was, in fact, broken.  Like cracked.  And splintered.  In multiple fucking places.

After examining the vandalism, I determined that the repair would need to take place at a later time when the natives were not present.  I admonished the natives, particularly Tuesday, to NEVER, EVER touch the doors again.  I affixed them back into place for the time being with the hope that that would be the only reprimand that would be needed to deter the native’s interest in the storage area.  Mistake number fucking two.

A little while later, the door was again, swinging in the breeze, cracked and splintered.  This time, Tuesday caught the ire of the tribal leader, who was already in a foul mood because of her illness.  Let there be no mistake here – my admonishment means NOTHING compared to those of the tribal leader – normally.  One of these days, I expect lightning to come crashing down from the heavens, striking the native that angers her wrath.  As epic as her manner of calming the natives is, her wrath is even more fucking epic.  Anywho, this evening, Tuesday even disregarded the reprimand of the tribal leader.  Yup.  Which, of course, continued to raise the ire of the tribal leader.  Fun times.

The tribal leader attempted to piece back together the broken door which required liquid adhesive, elastic bands and some delicate handling.  I, on the other hand, attempted to reason with the natives, particularly Tuesday.  Wednesday, at this point, was just in stand-by mode – watching, observing, learning – waiting to make her next move, while Tuesday was in all-out civil disobedience mode, clearly not giving a fuck about what was said, asked or otherwise demanded of her.  Sigh.

After the repair was complete, I attempted to do the impossible: reason with Tuesday.  I have tried on numerous occasions to reason with the native, to no avail.  Tonight, however, I was going to make contact.  I went down to her resting chambers were she and Wednesday were milling about.  I ordered Wednesday out of the room and sat, right in front of the closed-door, with just Tuesday and myself remaining in the room.  She grinned.

“I’m not happy with you.”

“Not happy?” she inquired.

“Yes, not happy.  We’re going to have a discussion.  Sit over here on the floor with me.”  She came over and sat about three feet away.

“No.  Closer to me.” I pointed.  I wanted her front and fucking center.  She was going to pay attention to me and nothing else, which was part of my reason for both closing the door and ordering Wednesday out.  She moved closer, still grinning.

“You need to listen to us,” I admonished, “the first time.”

“Yeah.” She was looking all around the room, anywhere but making eye contact.  I felt like I was talking to a drunk.



“Why do you suppose we might be upset with you?” I asked, “What did you do that made us upset with you?”

“I push Wednesday”

“No.. it’s not because you pushed Wednesday,” I replied.  At this point, she was rolling around, looking at the ceiling, playing with her feet – anything but paying attention to me.


“Yes!” she came right up close to my face.  At this point, I had forgotten what I was trying to say. Shit.  I wanted to laugh, but no.  My anger was building.

“What did I just say?”

I ended that line of question for a bit.  I started with the answer instead.  “We’re upset with you because you broke the door on the cabinet.  Mommy’s very upset with you.”

“Yeah.” Well, at least she acknowledged that.  Again, more rolling around ensued.  Jesus.


“Yeah…” getting right up close to me again.  Ugh.  I wonder if the cops have this much trouble.

“You need to go say sorry for breaking the door.”

“Go say sorry for breaking door.” She repeated.

“You need to say sorry for not listening.”

“Go say sorry for listening.” Not exact, but I knew what she meant.  The tribal leader would too.

I then inquired about how we could help her remember how to do things.  Once again, crickets abound.  I suggested that maybe constant repetition might help.  It was met with an eager, “Oh yeah!”  Fantastic.  It worked for the freakin’ alphabet, why not for behavior?  We revisited the idea of why she was pulled aside for questioning, informed of the deficiency in her listening skills and reminded of all the things she would be without if this behavior continued.  Then, I let her loose.

Now, during this time, Wednesday was extremely distraught – distraught with the idea that I had somehow escaped the tribal abode and was not coming back (hmmm, a thought…) however, her fear was untrue.  We emerged from their resting chambers, and Tuesday immediately sought the tribal leader and anxiously spit out her apologies.

“I sorry I not break door,” she blurted out, “I sorry I listened.”  Ugh.  Well, it’s a step.  The tribal leader understood and after much-needed affection, the natives went about their business in the tribal living area.

The natives are currently in the resting quarters, fast asleep.  Thank. God.  It’s not often that I question my sanity, however, after the interrogation of the criminal native, I’m beginning to wonder.  Perhaps all that separates me from insanity and ill-health and being of sound mine is a tall glass of wine.


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