Our boys have experienced a perfect storm of circumstances today that has led to them being totaled by 7:00. So, at my lovely wife’s request, I am sending them to bathe much earlier than usual, so that the fall-asleep-in-the-living-room, which is all but certain, does not generate a hygiene deficit.
One of the things they’re tired from is Santa photos, and I’m pretty sure getting those before Halloween is going to open some sort of time-space vortex that’s just generally going to fuck everything up for everybody. So, you know, if you start thinking things just aren’t quite right, you’re probably not mistaken, and it’s our fault. Sorry. Wash some Necco hearts down with a green beer and see if it fixes it.
My team delivered a cardiac victory yesterday of the sort that has been fairly common during some stretches of my fanhood, but which I was (mostly plausibly) hoping to avoid this year. (In terms of the way I felt, I was reminded of nothing so much as the end of Alabama 29, Georgia 28 in 1994.) I am delighted my Tide is 8-0, and their off week next week couldn’t be better timed.
So, you know, I guess here it is mid-autumn, and things are largely copacetic. There’s some uncommonly tasty early-’90s AOR that no one remembers but me pumping in the study. My mobile phone is back from being repaired. Though I’ve had a stand-in, I’m appalled at how much I’ve missed it (but mostly just happy; give it to me num num num).
Oh, well. I’m admitting it.
Have a good week.