ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-31-19)- Please remember
small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic
My wife told me that she's going away for the weekend to my sister's house in the Poconos. I hope it's not to get in touch with her feelings or anything like that, because every time somebody I know gets in touch with their feelings, it's always MY feelings that get hurt. If I want to get in touch with my feelings I usually just do it by email. However, this will be a great opportunity to do some things around the house that I've been meaning to do, maybe compose a song or, who knows? Maybe I'll write my autobiography. This small sliver of freedom could be a nice change. For instance, I can wear anything I want. If I want to I can wear a T-shirt with holes in it instead of a T-shirt with stains on it.
I'm supposed to feed the cat, but what do they eat? I had a cat when I was a kid and it used to bring home rodents and mice and all kinds of things, I guess to put in the refrigerator? But our cats don't go outside, because we're afraid that they're too dumb to run away. So I take a look around the pantry, there must be food in the house somewhere for them, maybe some mice in a Tupperware jar. And BEHOLD! There's a container that says "CAT." In spite of the off-chance that there may be a cat inside of it, I open it up and it seems to be cat food, even though it looks more like Cocoa Puffs than anything else. If they ARE Cocoa Puffs perhaps I should add some milk too, but I'm late for a tennis match.
When I got back the cat had left a nice present for me on the rug under the dining room table. I don't even know which side of the cat it came out of, but it was more than I fed it in the first place. I can see that there need to be some changes around here, and I make a note to put the cat on the Keto Diet. My wife adopted these two black cats from the vet's office years ago, at least she says it's only two- every time I turn around I'm tripping over one of them, and that's why I don't turn around anymore. Who even knows where they came from? Clearly they were from a broken home and would benefit from medication.
Time to do the laundry. I actually know more about money laundering than clothes laundering, but from what I understand, the key to successful garment-washing is to separate everything correctly. My technique is to separate items that are worn on the top from items that are worn on the bottom. There are some things which I'm not too sure which end they go on, so I put those aside for further testing.
All I have to do now is feed the dog take and her out, and I'm done for the day. I took Gidget for a walk out back in the woods, and I could immediately see that there was no discipline whatsoever. This dog is obviously used to doing whatever it wants, whenever it wants, wherever it wants because it's so adorable, and that was going to end starting now. From here on out, the dog refers to me by saying "SIR, YES SIR!" In barks or tail wags or whatever, I'll get the picture. And every time you stray outside the trail, BOOM! Drop down and give me 20 push-ups. By the time we got back from our walk, was there discipline? You bet there was, I did everything that damn dog wanted.
I can see why people fight so hard for freedom- it's intoxicating. I get to eat whatever I want for now, but I know I'll have to answer questions later. When my wife comes home she'll ask me with a smirk, "So what did you have for dinner?" In my defense, I would bet that there is a diet out there somewhere that allows you to eat exactly what I did, and you lose 40 pounds in one week during a hospital stay. After dinner I can watch episodes of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" until even Alexa can't take it anymore and tells me she needs some time alone to get in touch with her feelings. And it's not until you are a male alone at home for the weekend that you experience what a truly remarkable and powerful resource that the internet is.
I was getting a little stir crazy by myself so I decided to go out, see a band, support live music. It was pretty crowded at the bar, and judging from what I could see, designated drivers had yet to be designated. The lead singer declared that they were going to play 50 songs in 50 minutes. Either they were going to play them four times faster than usual, or this was going to be one of those annoying medleys. I guess that bands probably figure they're doing me a favor and saving me some time with those medleys, but just when you get to the part of the song when something good happens, they're onto the next one. And nothing says, "My lead guitarist sucks!" better than a medley. "Hey guys, just wondering, how come at the end of every second verse when my lead break is supposed to start, we switch to another song?" "Oh wow, really? Gee, I hadn't noticed that. Any of you guys notice anything like that?" Nobody makes any eye contact. Then the singer opened this big canister that looked like a live torpedo, and all this blue smoke came out, and I could see the ozone layer depleting right before my eyes. I had to get out of there before the sea level started rising.
Back home I was getting a little lonely watching Forensic Files, and the dog and cats were asleep. I'm beginning to realize how much my wife actually does around this place- I wonder if she would take a lateral promotion? I hope she's not having a good time without me, but I fully believe that she will come back. After all, home is where the heart is. It's also where a huge mess is, that one end or the other of the cat left under the dining room table and that I'm pretending not to notice. I never got around to writing my autobiography, but isn't that the story of my life?
My wife told me that she's going away for the weekend to my sister's house in the Poconos. I hope it's not to get in touch with her feelings or anything like that, because every time somebody I know gets in touch with their feelings, it's always MY feelings that get hurt. If I want to get in touch with my feelings I usually just do it by email. However, this will be a great opportunity to do some things around the house that I've been meaning to do, maybe compose a song or, who knows? Maybe I'll write my autobiography. This small sliver of freedom could be a nice change. For instance, I can wear anything I want. If I want to I can wear a T-shirt with holes in it instead of a T-shirt with stains on it.
I'm supposed to feed the cat, but what do they eat? I had a cat when I was a kid and it used to bring home rodents and mice and all kinds of things, I guess to put in the refrigerator? But our cats don't go outside, because we're afraid that they're too dumb to run away. So I take a look around the pantry, there must be food in the house somewhere for them, maybe some mice in a Tupperware jar. And BEHOLD! There's a container that says "CAT." In spite of the off-chance that there may be a cat inside of it, I open it up and it seems to be cat food, even though it looks more like Cocoa Puffs than anything else. If they ARE Cocoa Puffs perhaps I should add some milk too, but I'm late for a tennis match.
When I got back the cat had left a nice present for me on the rug under the dining room table. I don't even know which side of the cat it came out of, but it was more than I fed it in the first place. I can see that there need to be some changes around here, and I make a note to put the cat on the Keto Diet. My wife adopted these two black cats from the vet's office years ago, at least she says it's only two- every time I turn around I'm tripping over one of them, and that's why I don't turn around anymore. Who even knows where they came from? Clearly they were from a broken home and would benefit from medication.
Time to do the laundry. I actually know more about money laundering than clothes laundering, but from what I understand, the key to successful garment-washing is to separate everything correctly. My technique is to separate items that are worn on the top from items that are worn on the bottom. There are some things which I'm not too sure which end they go on, so I put those aside for further testing.
All I have to do now is feed the dog take and her out, and I'm done for the day. I took Gidget for a walk out back in the woods, and I could immediately see that there was no discipline whatsoever. This dog is obviously used to doing whatever it wants, whenever it wants, wherever it wants because it's so adorable, and that was going to end starting now. From here on out, the dog refers to me by saying "SIR, YES SIR!" In barks or tail wags or whatever, I'll get the picture. And every time you stray outside the trail, BOOM! Drop down and give me 20 push-ups. By the time we got back from our walk, was there discipline? You bet there was, I did everything that damn dog wanted.
I can see why people fight so hard for freedom- it's intoxicating. I get to eat whatever I want for now, but I know I'll have to answer questions later. When my wife comes home she'll ask me with a smirk, "So what did you have for dinner?" In my defense, I would bet that there is a diet out there somewhere that allows you to eat exactly what I did, and you lose 40 pounds in one week during a hospital stay. After dinner I can watch episodes of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" until even Alexa can't take it anymore and tells me she needs some time alone to get in touch with her feelings. And it's not until you are a male alone at home for the weekend that you experience what a truly remarkable and powerful resource that the internet is.
I was getting a little stir crazy by myself so I decided to go out, see a band, support live music. It was pretty crowded at the bar, and judging from what I could see, designated drivers had yet to be designated. The lead singer declared that they were going to play 50 songs in 50 minutes. Either they were going to play them four times faster than usual, or this was going to be one of those annoying medleys. I guess that bands probably figure they're doing me a favor and saving me some time with those medleys, but just when you get to the part of the song when something good happens, they're onto the next one. And nothing says, "My lead guitarist sucks!" better than a medley. "Hey guys, just wondering, how come at the end of every second verse when my lead break is supposed to start, we switch to another song?" "Oh wow, really? Gee, I hadn't noticed that. Any of you guys notice anything like that?" Nobody makes any eye contact. Then the singer opened this big canister that looked like a live torpedo, and all this blue smoke came out, and I could see the ozone layer depleting right before my eyes. I had to get out of there before the sea level started rising.
Back home I was getting a little lonely watching Forensic Files, and the dog and cats were asleep. I'm beginning to realize how much my wife actually does around this place- I wonder if she would take a lateral promotion? I hope she's not having a good time without me, but I fully believe that she will come back. After all, home is where the heart is. It's also where a huge mess is, that one end or the other of the cat left under the dining room table and that I'm pretending not to notice. I never got around to writing my autobiography, but isn't that the story of my life?
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