sistawendy | troubling kid stuff; unexpected Siren

M'boy lost his phone for the umpteenth time a couple of days ago, only to find it last night under a towel.
Me: Where is your phone supposed to go when you're not using it?
Wendling: On my bookshelf.
Me: Was the towel on your bookshelf?
W: ...
Me: Uh huh.
W: It was an accident!
Me: It was carelessness, [Wendling]. There's a difference.
W: It was an accident! They just happened.
Me: It was easily preventable.
The dude cannot. Accept. Responsibility. For even his own (important and not difficult) stuff. This is worrisome and it needs to stop. Good grief, ~~the boy~~ he can vote now.

Sure, I get that he's tired of his parents et al. riding him all the time. But that won't stop until he gets it together.

Picked up the Siberian Siren from the airport last night as arranged yesterday afternoon. She'd just come back from a few days in L.A., which she loves. She's even talking about setting up shop down there, now that she's in the middle of moving into a new place near Capitol Hill station* with her nearly-new sweetie. I told her that she is not allowed to move down there on a permanent basis, but she tends to get stuff done. I wouldn't be surprised if the City of Angels, someday soon, doesn't know what hit it.

She congratulated me on my MBSOs,** saying that I'm more lesbian than she is in this respect. As flattering as that may be, I had to tell her that I have the apparently unfair advantage of a prostate, or as

ionan put it, a P-spot.

It occurs to me that I'd love to take some of the Siren's abundance of executive function and give it to my son. Le sigh.

*Opening 1Q2016. Aw, yeah. I can take the train from right next to work to the SS, Funny Lady, assorted queer spots, Lambert House, my spiritual home, etc.
**Mind-blowing squirty orgasms. Aw, yeah.