Last week, I got a call from my insurance agency. They requested that I come in for a brief meeting to talk about my auto insurance options, since I will be turning twenty-five in less than a month. For those of you who aren’t familiar, twenty-five is the magic age when I become an actual adult.
The United States is a funny place. I can vote and be drafted and am legally an adult at age eighteen, but I cannot drink alcohol until I am twenty-one. Then, finally, at twenty-five insurance and car rental companies consider me a proper adult and can afford and use their services. Personally, I see twenty-five as the age when I can be elected to the House of Representatives.
Anyway, I make the appointment for this past Tuesday. It is still a free afternoon until my Masters class start up again in two weeks (making my academic load three night classes a week). On Monday afternoon, I got a ring double-checking that I was still planning on coming in. I said that I was and hung up.
“I need an alligator foot to be a robot.”
[note: not an alligator’s foot, but a foot made out of an alligator.]
You may be thinking I’m taking this out of context. There wasn’t any. He was just walking through the kitchen while I was cooking dinner.
The second one here comes from Mommy and I asking the boy his opinion on names.
“I want to name the baby Trogdor!”
Last weekend, we had our first winter storm. What the pictures showed on Thanksgiving was hardly a dusting that melted on the next sunny day. Saturday morning the snow started falling and it didn’t stop until the next day. It was wonderful, light, fluffy stuff.
I was feeling lazy that day and felt like watching the snow fall through the windows of my warm house. However, later it was called to my attention that the mail needed to be retrieved. So, kind chap that I am, I bundled up a bit and headed to the mailbox. Once out my door, I came across something of a surprise.
Last Tuesday was the summation of a great number of tough days. Between work, school, home, and plenty of other things piling up. Just when I thought the current day was the worst I would deal with for a while, the next would show up with the kind of grin I usually reserve for myself when I come up with another brilliant joke. So by Tuesday, there was a great din of doubt in ringing in my head about every aspect of my life, particularly my future.
As soon as I arrived home from class that night, the whipped cream to top my fecal pie, I went straight for the basement. The boy was in bed and M was watching television. In the basement, we have a closet under the stairs where we keep a small floor freezer and my small supply of beer and wine. I had my intention for the evening while I was driving home. I had the stereo blaring as loud as possible to drown the noise in my head.