I had a treacherous ride home from work last night, my friends. Twice, within ten minutes, my adrenaline spiked and crashed, and I nearly shit the headrest both times.
The first happened when one of those retreads, or whatever, came flying off the tire of a tractor trailer. There was a lot of smoke, and the truck began weaving and bucking — then there was an alligator-sized piece of rubber at windshield-level. Goddamn!
There was nothing I could do except brace for impact, and hope for the best. And by the time I got there — a half-second later — it was on the pavement, and I just ran over the thing. It made a hell of a racket, but everything seems to be OK.
Then, just a few minutes later I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. I looked to my left, and there was a giant deer rampaging toward my car. I mean it was RIGHT THERE, a few feet from my driver’s door, running at full speed.
Again, I hunkered down and waited for some bad shit to happen. But it didn’t. I don’t know how the thing avoided my car, but it didn’t even make contact. Perhaps it was a Special Ops deer, trained by the military, or something? Maybe it was well-versed in avoiding tragedy, and getting itself out of tough situations? You know, because of all the military training?
In any case, both those things happened within ten minutes of each other, and my central nervous system was cutting in and out.
Interstate 81 is the devil’s parkway.
I got up around 10:30 today, and both boys were home. They’re pretty much finished with school. One didn’t go today at all, for reasons I don’t fully understand (Toney-approved, though), and the other had a final in the morning, and that was it. Their last official day is Wednesday.
And they were piled-up in the family room, with the blinds shut and everything all dreary and stuffy. There was a hint of fart in the air, and they were watching ‘Shutter Island’ on USA. They’ve seen that movie at least five times.
I try not to be a complete bastard, so I said nothing. But it was difficult. My instincts told me to launch into a protracted speech about how they’re not going to waste the summer lazing around the house, watching boolshit on TV, etc. But I held my tongue. I’ll give them a one-week decompression period… then all options are on the table.
Accomplish stuff! Do something with all this time you’ve got on your hands!! It’s a gift, a huge opportunity. I’d love to have it. And they’re watching a heavily-edited movie on the USA Network, inside a stuffy chamber of farts? Oh, I can feel a speech brewing. Grrr…
To be fair, the older boy has a job as a lifeguard, and the younger one is working as a caddy at the country club. So, they’re not totally lazy. It’s just the first thing I saw when I got out of bed: couch-wallowing. I’m not a fan of the couch-wallowing.
And for our Question o’ the Day, I’d like to know what you’d do with three months off. How would you use it? I have a massive to-do list in Evernote, which I would attack. There’s enough stuff in there to keep me busy for several years. And if I had the funds, I’d travel. A change of scenery is something I’m craving.
What about you? What would you do with three months, during which you wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job, and crap like that? Please tell us about it in the comments section below.
And I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!