One of the fun things about being me is that I’m reminded on a regular basis that there are very few things about which I’m entirely certain. Really, there are a lot of basic everyday things that I probably should know about but don’t. Why, for instance, do old people smell like that? Why is every guy named Chad a knucklehead? Why do people like ferrets? I dunno.
On the other hand, the good news is that as I get older there’s also a growing list of things about which I am very certain. Again, basic everyday things, like that playing poker is not going to make you rich, Britney Spears will never be interesting, and hanging out in a public library during the middle of the day is uncomfortably weird.
Yeah, so about the library thing. In the middle of the day it’s mostly full of people with reasonable excuses to be here: moms with little kids, old retired guys who natter on endlessly with the Rasputin-bearded-reference-desk-guy, and middle aged women trickling through with armloads of Nora Roberts novels. I, however, am one of a small number of apparently able bodied, pre-retirement age males who are here also. So what are they doing here? It would make sense if they were homeless, crazy or both, but I don’t think they are so they just give me the willies.
I, on the other hand, have a perfectly good reason for hanging our here. Really. We’ve been renovating our house since early December and the library is pretty much the only place I have left to hide from all the hammering, banging and general caterwauling that seems necessary for construction. It’s actually a lot like a living in a frat house where it’s perpetually Friday night, except the floors aren’t quite as sticky.
So anyway, despite the fact that my days are also filled with a lot of other domestic-y chores, this is where I inevitably find myself by the end of the day. Me, the Rasputin-bearded-reference-desk-guy and all these other guys with nowhere else to go. It’s actually kind of like purgatory, except it’s quiet and the bathroom is clean. Oh yeah, and the WiFi is free, so I can keep posting this nonsense.
Without any preamble, lets just say that there are times when parenting can be really tough. Sure, there are all the wonderful moments filled with first steps, Christmas pageants and bedtime stories, but as any stay-at-home-parent can tell you, being at home with your progeny is no picnic. Well, actually it is kind of like a picnic sometimes, but just on a really hot day when it’s crowded, the mosquitoes are out, and there’s sand in your lunch. That kind of picnic.
Anyway, that said, there’s really no need to get discouraged, because as bad a day as you may be having, you’re still a better parent than Tina Williams. Yeah, you already know all about her because she and her beer have been the darlings of the last two news cycles, but still, I think most people are missing the point: that she makes the rest of us look like the best parents ever. Thanks Tina!
Although there are those who would disagree, we here in the Northeast are really no different than the rest of the nation. We have traditions that we hold as dear as anyone; we shiver through little league games in the spring, we grill way more beef than is actually good for us in the summer, and we spend our crisp autumn afternoons raking leaves while being serenaded by the ear-splitting roar of our neighbors leaf blowers. You know, Americana at its prosaic finest.
The winter though, provides an annual activity that’s even more stultifyingly banal: the “oooh-they-say-it’s-going-to-snow-but-we-don’t-know-how-much- -so-lets-all-speculate-ourselves-into-a-flather-over-nothing” tradition. Which, as of this very Sunday morning, has been going on for days. And days and days.
Well, here’s my response to the all the Chicken Littles out there, both of the professional meteorological and amateur variety: Tonight, it will get dark. Then it will snow a little bit. Tomorrow I will shovel that snow (while being serenaded by the ear-splitting roar of my neighbor’s snow blowers), and then I will have some hot chocolate and some lunch. And that’s all that’s going to happen. (Now granted, this prediction is based more on demonstrable experience than irrational hysteria, but I guess that’s just how I roll.)
So in short, if you feel that you may be one of those people prone to getting the vapors and creating drama over things you can’t control, please do us all a favor and save all that energy for something really weighty that’s also out of your hands. You know, like presidential elections or the Rapture; something idiotic like that. Thanks.
Addendum: Monday 1/14, 11:50 a.m.
So after all that, this is a picture of the “snow” we got from last night’s “storm.”
I just knew my chosen profession should have been meteorology, since it seems that neither competence nor accountability are required. =Grrrrr...
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Ok, I don’t really have anything to say, it’s just that I stumbled across this picture this morning and I love it too much not to share.
(Although I suppose it does go perfectly with what O’Reilly had to say about his latest Obama kerfuffle:, “No one on this earth is going to block a shot on The O’Reilly Factor.” ,The whole earth?, Really?)
Anyhoo, enjoy, and have a nice day.
