to grunt & sweat under a weary life

Today was fine, finer-than-fine, in fact, right up until about half-past five.

I was sitting at my desk at work, contemplating leaving.  Thinking about what Sharaun might be making for dinner (I am one who is blessed with a home-cooked meal nearly every night); wondering what thing Keaton would be proud of and want to show me the moment I walked in the door (she’s fiercely creative and is in that phase where she learns something incredible to her every single day); anxious to see Cohen (who sprouted his first tooth overnight and thus had something to show me which rivaled sister).  My exit strategy involved a quick trip to the restroom after packing away the laptop (always have to lug that thing home… my lifeline to work), swinging back by the desk to grab my things and don my hat, and heading out into the cold darkening evening.

Anyway I did all that.  Then when I got in the car I remembered it had nagged me on the way in about being low on fuel.  Bummer, almost six already and I wanted to to get home.  I wish Sharaun would keep the thing filled instead of asking me to take it on the day rivals the bones in Ezekiel’s valley.  But it’s not her fault, I could’ve filled it on the way in in the morning but I was too lazy.  I just have this thing about unscheduled stuff and I was really in the mood to get home.  The gas thing wasn’t the problem.  It was the e-mail that dink!‘d into my phone at the stoplight in front of the UPS store.  I know, I shouldn’t be reading e-mail on my phone in the car.  Certainly now when I’m operating the car, even stopped dead at a light while and old Russian couple crosses in front of me.  But I do.  I read mail when I’m stopped.

That mail bummed me out though, man.

And then I stopped for gas and the gas cost like $70.  That much for gas seems dumb.  And then as the garage door pulled open before me I saw Sharaun had parked on the “wrong” side of the garage, meaning I’d have to swap the cars around (it’s a long story).  When I walked into the house I decided I was too tired and my late arrival would compress the evening enough that I’d not be going to the gym again.  Dinner wasn’t in the oven yet.  Cohen was crying.  The coffee table was a mess.

In other words, that one stupid e-mail tainted my whole outlook.  Turning normal non-things into the annoying and cumbersome.

Thank God for Keaton’s smile and Cohen’s outstretched arms and Sharaun’s welcome-home hug.  E-mail can suck an egg for all I care.

‘Night.


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