…on vacations

you ever get the feeling that you should have stayed in bed?

your home state?

yeah. me too.

you see, the baby has a stomach virus.

and we made the decision that riding said virus out would be better in a two bedroom house in a sprawling development in west palm beach would be a better plan than flushing three airplane tickets down the toilet and enjoy said virus in our not so sprawling 350 square foot studio apartment.

not the best set of options but, I stick by my decision.

it's sunny and the baby is sleeping and for five minutes, a bastard can get some peace and quiet.

—the bastard

definition of terms…

"can you take down the recycling", are the six most drudgerous words any man's wife can utter.

but the bastard will do the recycling with ducking gusto every time.

I get in the elevator with Friday night flip flops and his technicolor laundry vomit explosion.

give the nod and touch nothing.

flips asks if I intended to go to the basement and I explain, " nah, I gotta go downstairs and drop this grief", indicating my bag of grief.

"that's a great word to use", indicating his bag of laundry.

"grief has many uses. you got yourself a bag a grief right there guy", as I gesture to his laundry bag.

he leaves the elevator enlightened.

—the bastard

…on the cattle and the creeping things

so we have these fancy new bathrooms at the office.

and while I'm sure it has that "new bathroom" smell when the mad pooper of our office doesn't leave a hanger in one of the stalls,

the bastard has to wonder what would possess a man to sit in his stall without his shoes on.

not once.

but, twice.

we're owned by Swedish people now.

perhaps it's a Swedish thing.

but I'm notsomuch with the sureness of this matter.

—the bastard

...on the wait

there's a storm coming.

not in the metaphorical sense.

but an actual storm.

hurricane my uncle is coming tomorrow.

gonna be a hell of a Saturday.

or not.

—the bastard