The Older Younger Rose Bush

Since last Monday, I've been living in my grandmother's house to avoid the chemicals from the remodel of my parents' bathroom. In the dark of the night, carbon filter mask and oxygen over my nose and mouth, I've been sneaking back into my room for the essentials I forgot, like clothes, a toothbrush, shampoo, books, and my spare oxygen tanks.  My prized possessions live scattered on Grammy and Matt's desk, so I've been hoping against hope the bathroom might be finished before April when Grammy and Matt return from Florida and send me to sleep on their living room couch.

As miffed as I am about not being in my own room (sometimes referred to as the black hole, I den there like a bear in the winter) I must confess the amenities are mostly better over here.  Grammy and Matt have a steam room.

The first night I stayed down there, I wasn't so impressed however.  I dashed out of the shower, clutching a towel, feet bright purple from Reynaud's, dripping freezing cold water.

Fish: I can't get the water in the shower to heat up!
Dad: Did you try the bathtub?
Fish: There are flies in it.
Dad: Get the vinegar, I hear flies don't like vinegar.
Fish: Dead flies.

But Dad disposed of a dead mouse decomposing in Grammy's sink for me the next morning, so I can't complain.  No, I can, because the shower's water problem was his fault.  He'd need to get rid of three mice for me to make up for that.

Fish: Why didn't you just tell me you switched the hot and cold water in the shower?
Dad: But I just made it realistic.  Colder stars are red, hotter ones, blue.
Fish: Men who love astronomy too much.  You do realize colder star is relative anyway?  So coooooold.
Dad: I thought you figured it out and got your hot shower so you shouldn't still be cold.
Fish: Don't point out the inconsistencies in my story while I'm smiting you with my righteous wrath!

I've been watering Grammy's garden and feeding wild birds for her since she and Matt went south for the winter, (so they have less of a leg to stand on if they come back and try to kick me out, ha!) and every little darling of hers is doing fine, except one rose bush, which is sadly... confused.

Fish: One of Grammy's roses is trying to flower.
Mom: Well the weather's been all over the place lately, how can you blame the poor thing for not realizing it's February?
Fish: It snowed Tuesday.  None of the other roses have fallen prey to the seductions of evil evil false spring, they all have proper bare stems with a few faltering leaf buds, but no, this one's all decked out in spring foliage, and flowers.
Mom: It's precocious.  It just wants to look pretty!
Fish: It's the older younger rose bush.
Mom: That trollop.