I still live at home with my mom and dad and needless to say, I could probably move into my own house just based solely on the amount of “stuff” I have. Don’t get me into my “stuff” right now…I’m sure my dad’s response to my “stuff” will be another post at some point. Anyway, my room was very cluttered with my bed, multiple dressers, bookshelves, a desk, etc. My Nanny was in town for two months and she is known for rearranging furniture and redecorating. With her encouragement and my mom’s green light, I nervously asked Zaino, my initially resisted nickname for my dad, if I could move my office into his dun dun…..the cave in the basement. His initial response was, “WHAT????” However, after further discussion and coaxing he allowed me to move my desk, two bookshelves, and a dresser into his man cave. I should say that my Nanny was elated that I was going to have my own workspace, and she thought it was hilarious that he was going to have to share the cave with me. She named the cave, kahf (كهف), which is Arabic for cave. She dubbed us kahf-mates. He was pleased (this statement is dripping with sarcasm if you couldn’t tell).
There were some guidelines for me to be down in the kahf, don’t get me wrong! The rules according to Zaino for being in the kahf:
1. You can’t be down there when I am.
2. If you have to come down into the cave, DO NOT talk to me!
3. DO NOT touch my things.
4. DO NOT come on my side of cave.
During the initial move-in, there were some to be expected encounters.
- He placed a bookcase jutting out from the wall, so that there would be a “partition”. (This was later changed by my mom–she did not like it!)
- I went downstairs to get a pen and I just said hi. I received a glare and was asked, “Why are you talking to me?”
- I brought home my class fish (a third kahf-mate-dubbed by Nanny) and I was told that there was no more space for him.
The general happenings in the kahf, will most likely be separate blog posts, just like the latest from yesterday…
I coach swimming, as most of you know, and I had all 10 coaches coming to my house yesterday to work on fun awards for all of our swimmers. The logical place to have that many people working is in the basement right? So, I go down into the basement and tell my dad that the girls will be coming over to work. The exchange:
Me: “Dad, the coaches are going to be coming over today to work on awards. We are going to be in the basement.”
Zaino: “What?!? When? Why?” (In rapid succession)
Me: “Soon. Dad, we are working on awards.”
Zaino: “What? Why do you have to do this here?”
Me: “Where would you want me to do it?”
Zaino: “At the pool!”
Me: “Dad, that doesn’t really work. We have computers, paper, and it is windy out.”
Zaino: “Ugh okay.”
Using the cave went well and he was fine….he survived! 🙂
Here is a picture of our cave! My desk is on the right and my dad’s desk is in the back on the left.
Later that evening, we were talking about the kahf. And let’s just say, I do NOT say it correctly and I get reminded of this often. So, Zaino was trying to teach me how to say it. Basically, you have to use the back of throat. Listen here! Anyway, after several attempts and still failing. He just told me to choke myself and say it!
We died laughing for a good 5 minutes!
This is my life with Zaino! It is fun, enlightening, hilarious, and definitely zany! I would not change anything about him or our relationship! This will be the blog of the zany happenings of Zaino, so that hopefully you can all join in on the zany fun!