I checked the blog tonight in preparation and anticipation of posting a rant entitled ‘XL is Hell’. I find the topic is already open, and so I will use this forum and the audience I respect so deeply, but I will temper things a little and try to be, well, I little more myself.
In a nutshell the first month of my 41st year has been brutal. January 7, 3-days after my birthday I collected my first moving violation in 17 years. It turned out to be an innocuous ‘fix it’ ticket for a burnt out taillight, but it was a portent of things to come and a commentary on my aging vehicle.
The family was good. Laura and the boys back into their routines after the holidays. The glaring issue was the potentially 5-figure remodel of our master bath, brought on by what appears to be a construction defect. The whole thing will likely end up in court at some point. For now we are engaged in a power struggle with the contractor over scheduling a rising costs. A big headache, as Laura deals with them directly and I mostly rely on the phone.
Anyway while that was percolating we took the boys to a classmate’s birthday party at the Charles Schultz Memorial Ice Rink. Largely due to my ineptitude, I despise ice-skating, but when you have twins both parents have to lace ‘em up. With about 30 minutes of ice time left, some young hooligan spooked my partner Connor. He shied back. I leaned back. Leaning back is a direct affront to the ice gods, and gravity. I went down hard, but managed, like a good Dad, to ensure Connor fell on me. He was fine and went on to enjoy cake and ice cream. I headed to the Petaluma Valley Hospital ER, for X-rays and a cast/splint for my broken left hand.
The morning before the party I had decided to deal with the pesky traffic ticket. I bought new bulbs from NAPA Auto, plugged in the fresh light and headed for the police station. I proudly flicked on the light for the nice officer, but alas, NAPA had sold me the wrong bulb, and my whole rear assembly shorted out. Which is why, in a round about way (long and unnecessary explanation omitted), I found myself driving my sister’s Honda Civic home on Thursday Feb. 1. I felt pretty good despite a long day at the office, yet I by driving I was missing my normal 45 minute nap on the bus. My body was angered by this, and decided that a few seconds of snoozing at 55mph wouldn’t kill me. It didn’t kill me, but it was a near thing. Thanks to the Civic’s airbags, a safety feature my regular ride lacks, I walked away from the accident with a bruised sternum (the ER staff remembered me). The car was totaled as was about 25 feet of quality State of California guardrail.
So you can see why being 40 has been hell for me. Still this is just the first month. Something worse could happen. But probably some power in the universe is telling me something. Like: Maintain your 15-year old commute scoot better! Or Learn to ice skate, Fool! Or, as I ironically post this at 130am, GET SOME MORE F***ING SLEEP!
