I'm going to pretend I'm still on vacation. A good vacation, too. It's not that I had a bad vacation, I had a great vacation, I just want to vacate my house and go back on vacation and vacation in a really nice vacation destination. Like say... I don't know, someplace nice.
Today the Prince got his driver's license. He's the man, now. I will now begin the decline common to all men who have kids who drive. I will begin to forget how to do it. First, I will begin to go slow, then I will grow out my ear hair enough that I will no longer hear the "ticka-ticka-ticka" of my turn signals. I will eventually buy a Toyota. I will be unable to make a right turn without coming to a full stop, and I will drive around aimlessly during the day, listening to minor league baseball and traffic reports from far-off cities, looking for a hardware store, barber shop or bakery that's been closed for years. (You know, Milt had the heart right after his wife had the cancer. His kids came back to clean out the place and they thought Tommy would take over, but his wife was from up north and didn't want to leave her big house. I heard he was in insurance, too. You know, you can make a good living as a baker, but you have to get up early. Kids these days don't want to do that. I'm sure Tommy would've... he was a good kid, he worked concessions at the park summers... basketball player. Nope, too short. Had some heft to him too... not much of a jumper. She's no shrinking violet either, I saw them at church last Easter. She was letting the kids have it in the parking lot. The oldest was on the phone the whole service! In my day we would've been humiliated...) Soon my legs will atrophy and I'll end up on one of those scooters, drifting aimlessly through Wal-Mart looking for plumber's putty and bacon bits.
Before I do that though, I've got to get the kids ready for school. Maddmom has a new job, the kids go back to school, and I'll be alone with my speaker phone and email, pretending to have co-workers and friends. I'll turn my webcam on and say "Workin' hard or hardly workin'?" to the old man looking back at me.
Oh. I've also decided that since it is impossible for me to get under 195 pounds and I still look fat in all my vacation pictures, that the proper response is for me to get obese. I was on the beach quite a bit last week and noticed that the fat people looked a lot better than the "a little heavy" people. They are filled out more, more solid looking. More comfortable looking. I look like a melted candle. They look like a ripe peach. I figure I should just give up and start cramming down the food. Or maybe I could starve myself? I'm torn. Should I go for dessicated, old, overly tan guy or big, fat, old pale guy? Either way has got to be better than this (red and white striped semi-fat middle aged guy).
All righty. Off to hang myself.
Labels: Admit it