Day 38 "Glassholes"
Have I mentioned how poorly I operate on very little sleep? Ever? Because it's not good. I'm barely a functioning member of society. I even snap at myself. If I brush too hard or dribble my coffee on my shirt. "Idiot!" I'll say. And then shrug and move forward into my day. Reluctantly and with a scowl.
Don't get me wrong, I'm getting better as I age and the world requires less of me. But I think it's one of those habits that doesn't truly get broken until you have kids.
Kids break you of it in a hurry or you'll just have people living in your house that hate you. Can't be picking babies up annoyed all the time. That's no good for anyone. And so some form of early morning, bleary-eyed, cheer must be found. Somehow.
At least that's my theory.
A theory backed up by every annoying conversation I've ever had with a parent that I've made the mistake of discussing sleep with. Don't even do it, if you're reading this in a current state of childlessness. Don't even bring sleep up with someone who has procreated.
First they'll just laugh at you, regardless of the particular details regarding sleep you were discussing. You might have just told them you bought new sheets for your bed. That's all they'll need to delve into how terrifyingly difficult it is to get any sleep with kids and how they're basically gladiators and you're an asshole. Just because your brand of condom was just a little bit more durable than theirs.
Then they'll glance at their partner as they laugh at you and they'll do a cute little choreographed snicker - that knowing, somewhat condescending - but also somewhat jealous little sound you develop as a parent -- and then proceed to tag team you and get all up in your cornflakes about it.
"Well you won't be getting any sleep when you have kids," one will pontificate, shaking their head disparagingly at you as if you've obliviously walked through life never having heard of babies or their displeasure with sleeping schedules.
"It'll be a rude awakening when YOU have one," the other one will flow up with, patting me on the cheek to add insult to injury. And then they'll high five and talk about pampers for seventeen minutes as you sit there feeling like an admonished five year old.
It never ends, the instantaneous expertise of any person with kids when speaking to a bachelor.
For myself, I rarely take these unwanted admonishments to heart anymore. There are a few parents out there I listen to, of course. The reasonable ones. The ones who seem to be doing it the way I would. Not surprisingly it's these ones who just shrug when the topic of sleep comes up and say, "You just adapt."
Adapt! Yes. Of course you do. As with all things in life, if you're not a selfish shithead. There it is right there. Adaptation. Just as I would inevitably adapt to life in prison - though I will avoid it to my last breath - so too would I adapt to the sleeping patterns of a baby; despite my stated abhorrence to no sleep as mentioned at the outset of this entry.
Look, I get it. When I have babies my control over the hours I spend in the realm of sleep will no longer be valid and I'll be under the influence and control of a tiny creature that comes with no sense of decency or empathy for the other organisms in its general vicinity whatsoever.
So I know this. And until such a time as I have to relinquish control over my own life to a smaller, updated version of me - if such a thing were to happen - I will continue to complain on days like this, when I wake up groggy and somewhat irritated due to a self imposed lack of sleep.
Can we just leave it there so I can move on? Enough baby talk! As of today I am a free man with regard to every other individual of our species save Jeannette. And as such I'd prefer to focus on that truth and let my sleep addled mind go elsewhere.
I'm currently sitting in the waiting room of a Speedy Auto Glass waiting for them to put a new window in the ass end of my vehicle. I'm assuming you recall the incident a few days ago when it got blown out right in front of me as if I'd been narrowly missed by the bullet of a sniper rifle.
If you're not familiar with that incident, I'll not regale you with the details here and instead force you to go look it up yourself. This is why you have to keep up with me guys! The idiocy you'll miss will really start to pile up if you don't.
So I'm here for the next two hours working on the book (and this infernal blog) while Jeannette sits in the warm comfort of home sending me pics of over priced apartments in Vancouver. How does anyone love in that city? I could buy a house back here for what a tiny apartment goes for out there. It won't be a nice house mind you, more of a shack I suppose, but it'd be livable!
...except in winter. .. or any rain.
So apartment hunting today and then house hunting tomorrow on Jeannette's birthday. You'd think that would be enough for her, but noooo, I also have to make her a meal tomorrow night. Not sure how ingesting any of my cooking constitutes a "present" for anyone not seeking bowel issues, but hey, it's her rodeo. I'd tried to surprise her with two separate bday plans which both fell through miserably. "Let's go somewhere sunny and warm!" I said one day after looking into flights. "Nope. Done with travel for now," she said. And she was right of course. I'm sure I would have hated going anywhere else too. Then I was going to fly someone in to visit her but that couldn't happen either. Yeesh.
If not for the excitement of looking at houses tomorrow I came very close to blowing this first birthday together all to hell.
But she's excited about it. As am I. One house in particular.. but we shouldn't go there. That'll release the devil of expectation. And we're all done with him in this lifetime I think.
Okay, I'm going to sit here in this frigid waiting room now eating Cheetos and drinking 7/11 coffee while working on Mouthy Primate: book one.
Enjoy your day, all you gladiators and assholes out there. -mp