No Good Can Come From This
I sat down to begin composing this blog entry. The words just seemed to start to flow and I was feeling pretty good that this was going to be a great post. I had finished the first couple of paragraphs and decided I would re-read it to make sure it sounds ok. I was pretty darned happy with it. I went out to look at a previous entry thinking there might be a good hook from something I wrote earlier. It was at that moment that I realized that I had just written the first two paragraphs from a June 24th entry. No wonder it sounded so familiar. I thought that just meant that I was in the zone and focused. Now I realize that I am having a side effect from the medication they gave me for my bronchitis. I hate when that happens. Writing while on medications is definitely different than what normally happens when I write. Usually I can almost visualize the words on the paper and I feel as though I am just a scribe to some higher power that is guiding my words. While on meds I feel more like I am wandering around in a daze surrounded by fog. I’m definitely going to have to pay closer attention otherwise some of these posts are going to sound like Jethro Tull lyrics which I still believe he makes up as he is singing the songs.
This morning started off in an odd way. I was in bed completely crashed and had been so for nearly 6 hours. That’s kind of a record for me as I normally only sleep about 3 hours a night. Don’t ask me why I only sleep 3 hours a night; I don’t have the faintest idea. It has just always been like that. I am guessing it has to do with the fact that I am sick but it is still pretty weird to be asleep for that long. Trina came in and woke me up asking if I was going to be driving her to the rendezvous to go to camp. Both her and Whitney will be gone for the next week as they go to Girl’s camp. This means that Dakota and I will be at home. This of course makes Trina extremely nervous. It is not that she doesn’t think we can’t take care of things while she is gone. Ok she really doesn’t think we can take care of things and has stated that on numerous occasions. Her biggest concern is what will happen when I am at home for that length of time. Past experience probably suggests that her concerns are well founded. If I have too much time on my hands in a certain location I have to do something. In the past that has meant that Trina has returned home to some very strange things.
Last year when she was gone I thought the refrigerator was making a strange noise. Dakota and I went to the store and picked out a new fridge and while we were there we added a new cook stove as well. Then there was the time when she left and I thought the ceiling fan was making an odd sound so I tore it apart and had pieces of ceiling fan strung all around the house when Trina got back. Oh and she never lets me forget about when she left town and I went and bought a motorcycle. Boy, it’s like this woman never forgets anything (except that I wear a size 44 when shopping for an authentic Arizona Diamondbacks tenth anniversary jersey). So this morning it should not have been too much of a surprise when I got a lecture from Trina that made me promise not to go too crazy while she was gone and to please not destroy the house. I swear, she has absolutely no confidence in me.
Shortly after dropping Trina and Whitney off I came home and began getting ready for the day. I went into the kitchen and decided to make breakfast. I went to reach for the drawer handle to get a knife out and realized that the cabinets and drawers do not have handles. I brought Dakota into the kitchen so that he too could see my discovery. “Dad, those drawers and cabinets have never had handles.” Are you kidding me? We’ve lived in this house for 14 years and I’m just now realizing that there are no handles on the cabinets. Well we need to fix that. For the next several days I will be doing my best to solve the case of the missing cabinet drawer handle. Trina is going to be so surprised to find out that we have been missing cabinet door handles. Why don’t people tell me these things?