I Drink Far Less Than Is Justifiable
Aug 16 2014
We were on a tight timeline yesterday. That’s the same thing as saying everything was about to be totally screwed up. Foreshadowing, man. Dramatic suspense.
We went to the sporting goods store to buy cleats for a boy child.
I had with me two 7-year-olds, two teenagers, my car keys and my wallet. I lost five of those things in the store. Three of them more than once.
During our trip, we took down an entire wall of shoes. One of those metal brackets that hold the racks in place came loose, “all by itself” according to a 7-year-old, and the shoes crashed to the ground.
We fixed it.
I lost the children.
I found the children wearing boxing gloves and beating up a man named Bob. He was plastic and missing everything below his torso. My kids thought Bob’s handicaps were a good reason to pummel him. I think they need to attend mandatory anti-bullying classes. Kids these days. Geez.
I said no to 1200 things the children wanted to buy. Among them, boxing gloves and Bob.
I lost them again.
I swear, shopping with children is made up of two equal parts: 1/2 saying no and 1/2 losing them.
We finished shopping.
We went out to our car, which is when I discovered my keys were missing.
I went back into the store where I found my keys on a metal bracket holding up the wall of shoes. I grabbed my keys and the entire wall of shoes cascaded once again to the floor.
I told the store manager the metal bracket came loose all by itself, and I shrugged my shoulders in my best “we live in a world of mystery” imitation.
I went back to the car.
Which wouldn’t start.
In conclusion, I drink far less than is justifiable.