skepticlysm

Somewhere Outside of …

Written by

Skeptifist

in

  • And here we go.
  • Been to the doc twice today.
  • Seriously.
  • Every day this week.
  • Wtaf.
  • I’m ready to be done.
  • Then head to the gym.
  • Well, not that fast.
  • I need to set up the bike trainer again.
  • And get my home resistance workout ready to go.
  • Because I’m so out of shape, if I went straight to weights I would not be able to move for five days.
  • Starting from scratch.
  • Couch to … something.
  • It is definitely a project akin to restoring a classic car.
  • Not that I’m a classic.
  • Hubris.
  • But about the same age.
  • Always boggles my mind I was only a handful of years older than my first car, which was considered a “classic muscle car” by the time I got it at 17.
  • Regretful Life Decision #667: Selling the Camaro instead of just park-and-tarping it.
  • Sigh.
  • Live now, not then, not when.
  • But seriously, looking forward to that good muscle soreness.
  • You know what I’m talking about.
  • If I tried to kung fu right now, I’d throw my back out and need to borrow one of my mom’s walkers.
  • This just happened: Apparently I did the “Gangnam Style” dance for the kid when she was little, trying to get her to laugh.
  • That’s what my sister says, anyway.
  • I have no recollection of that, and I sure as hell don’t need to see that.
  • I can’t dance, man.
  • Not a bit.
  • Like Steph won’t even let me try.
  • Too self-conscious.
  • Which is funny, because … Life truth: unless you’re supermodel hot, or Elaine, or a professional dancer, no one’s watching you dance.
  • That’s a life lesson, really.
  • No one’s paying attention 99 percent of the time.
  • Fly your freak flag high.
  • (Borrowed that.)
  • What is the magic formula to live life honestly, to literally give no F’s about what anyone thinks of you?
  • That’s what authenticity is.
  • Not craving attention.
  • Not the shit the Cheeto-in-Chief does.
  • Went to Walgreen’s to get my industrial-strength Benedryl, and on my way to the pharmacy, I grabbed a Snickers for the kid (on the wife’s text rec, though I know better than to go to Walgreen’s and not return without chocolate).
  • (Have a little faith.)
  • After I waited out the older dude in front of me, I stepped up to the counter.
  • The Walgreenarian said, “What can I help you with today?”
  • “I have a pick-up.”
  • She nodded. “Last name.”
  • I gave it.
  • She nodded. “We have two for you.”
  • She retrieved them from the C bucket, then came back.
  • I’d tossed the Snickers on the counter.
  • She glanced down. “Oh, you got me a Snickers!”
  • “Do you need one? I’ll go back and get you one.”
  • …
  • “Seriously.”
  • She smiled really big the whole rest of the time.
  • I would’ve done it, too.
  • If not for those damn kids.
  • For real though.
  • You could make someone’s day giving them a candy bar.
  • Or at least make their 15 minutes before someone else shits on it.
  • The kid is battling with “boredom” today.
  • Show, don’t tell.
  • She tossed a pen at me.
  • I threw it back.
  • She threw it again.
  • I said, “I’m writing.”
  • Pouty bottom lip came out.
  • “What do you want?”
  • “I want to go somewhere!”
  • “Where?”
  • “I don’t know.”
  • “I’m not sitting in five o’clock traffic with no destination.”
  • More pouty lip.
  • C’mon, kid.
  • I got like 300 words to go.
  • Parental guilt.
  • If only I were a bad parent …
  • Or had more than one kid.
  • But seriously, I’m in a house with four women, a girl dog, and two girl cats.
  • It’s just me and Snacks.
  • On my left, the bored kid.
  • On my right, Liho the cat, who knows it’s the five o’clock hour and is demanding her evening food tribute.
  • She’s “my” cat.
  • Has resting bitch face.
  • Always scowling.
  • Always demanding.
  • When I’m in the kitchen, she winds around my feet making the “You’re going to pick me up” sound.
  • I’ve covered that before.
  • The cat makes different sounds for different demands.
  • The pick-up thing happens in the morning, at dinner, or pretty much any time I’m trying to, you know, DO something.
  • Her needs come before making coffee or dinner, and if you don’t hit the time limit, she’ll slash or bite you in punishment.
  • The hell, man.
  • “The Chosen One” label always comes with deeds to endure.
  • Taking out the trash the other night, I saw bats fluttering their way across the sky.
  • Made me think of HST.
  • Bats always make me think of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”
  • Obviously.
  • Flirted a bit with “What We Do in the Shadows.”
  • “Bat!”
  • Still makes me laugh when I think about that.
  • But HST owns the bat association.
  • He could take Dracula in a straight-up fight.
  • No contest.
  • I’d order that emotional support HST, but it looks like it’s a China product, and I’m getting tired of things taking a month to get here when I order them.
  • Still waiting on one of Steph’s birthday presents.
  • Ordered it on the 6th.
  • You would think ten days is adequate time.
  • Apparently not.
  • Curses!
  • (Shakes fist at the sky.)
  • I don’t shake my fist at the sky.
  • Ever.
  • I just clench them at my sides and tremble with suppressed rage.
  • RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT!
  • (Unless it’s summer, then eagerly await the setting of the sun because F this heat.)
  • See you tomorrow.

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