See ya tomorrow

You were probably expecting me to filibuster out a post long enough to get me over that 850,000 word mark today– which, incidentally, is 70K words longer than the King James Bible.

Nope.  It’s my son’s birthday.  He’s 7.  Hanging out with family tonight.  Behave, y’all.


unnamed.jpgThe real bullshit about this picture is that 1) it in no way really captures the level of utter chaos my living room has descended into, while simultaneously capturing perfectly the horror that is my living room carpet; and 2) I cleaned the room when I got home yesterday.  The boy turned 5 on Tuesday and spent all day Sunday acquiring new toys from various and sundry relatives and friends; last night, we took him to the local Toys-R-Us to spend a couple of gift cards and some birthday cash he got.

We, uh, probably should have parceled that shit out over a couple of months or something.  Dude has so many new presents that he hasn’t even taken everything out of the packaging yet, and what with how kids’ toys are packaged nowadays our recycling bin is already overflowing with over a week left until they come pick it up again.  Today is my day off and I’m hiding in the office rather than dealing with the mess; he probably ought to at least help and I just don’t have any Goddamn idea where to put any of the crap anyway.

tl;dr I am fortunate enough that my kid having too many people who love him and want to give him stuff is a problem.

Note that I am not unaware that every single book on a shelf behind all those toys is mine.  He’s a kid; he’s gonna take as many toys as he can get people to give him.  I have no excuse for the vast quantities of crap I’ve accumulated over the years.  The difference is I have places to put my shit.

Oh and also I pay for the mortgage so shut up.

I have, in general, been mostly trying to avoid writing about the election here, which accounts for some, but not all, of the shorter posts lately– if my options are “write about the election” and “not write much” I’ve been choosing the latter far more often than the former, especially since I have Twitter to be militant on anyway.  But this story is too insane to be believed– that Donald Trump’s political organization is so insanely incompetent that, with the rest of today and one business day until the deadline on Monday, Trump isn’t on the ballot in Minnesota yet.

Take a minute and think about how utterly shit you have to be at running things for that to happen.  And people are going to vote for this hairsack.  I mean, I know, I get it– he’s not actually interested in being president and the whole campaign is a grift.  He has no campaign staff, no boots on the ground, no organization, no nothing.  He’s not really running.  I know.  But shit, he’s not even trying to look like he’s taking this seriously.

Best-laid plans and all that

I was thinking about writing some sort of retrospective, possibly quite maudlin post about turning 40 when I got home from work today.

That was before walking seventeen thousand steps during my 11-hour shift.

(NOTE: That is not a complaint.  I love it.)

Instead, I’m gonna read a book and go to bed early.  Maudlin will have to wait.

Love y’all.  G’night.

Birthday sale!

I’m 40!  Buy stuff:

#Weekendcoffeeshare: Elderly Curmudgeon edition


If we were having coffee, I’d be… Hm.  I’m not actually sure what I’d be doing at the moment.  This is a big week of transitions in my life, right?  I’ve been at training for the last two weeks, but tomorrow my new career actually starts.  I’ve been an educator since late 2000.  I’m a furniture salesman now.  Most of me is really looking forward to this but a big part of me still can’t help but see it as a mid-life demotion.  Will I get over it?  I expect to.  But I don’t know.

Oh, and also, I turn 40 on Tuesday.  There will be a whole post for that, and I don’t want to burn the entire Holy Shit I’m 40 And My Imminent Death Is Staring Me In The Face post on a coffee share, but there’s some of that going on too.  Or maybe not?  I’ve been telling people I was 40 for a year, as I mostly skipped 39.  I’ll be at work for eleven hours on my birthday, so it’s not like I’ll have a lot of time to get all kvetchy about things.  But maybe I will anyway?  Or maybe I’ll be OK with it?  I dunno.  I won’t know for real until it’s official.

Nah, if we were having coffee, I think I’d mostly be interested in looking to see if I could get you to indulge in bitching about fireworks with me.  Some of the neighbors put on, oh, a two-hour display last night while I was at OtherJob?  And it was pretty, but it was mostly loud.  And I got some of the clearest evidence yet that I’m getting old, because by the end of the night I was muttering Jesus fuck, ENOUGH every time something exploded nearby.  I sort of want to keep the boy up late tonight and take him to see something– we are in a shitty part of our timezone, and it doesn’t get properly dark this time of year until nearly 10:00–  but I certainly found that I could do without the damned things last night.

So, yeah, maybe the goal for this coffee share is to keep you talking.  My gripes are all pretty predictable at the moment.  How’s it going?