I think it’s time to admit that we are collectively in denial. I don’t want to shame anyone here, but the bottom line is we have to be honest with ourselves about our sizes. We are simply not as small as we think we are.
To me, a freshly cleaned car is a great feeling. I spent a lot of time in my car, and I love having a nicely tidied up ride. That said, I often tromp out in the woods or go to the beach and I tend to not exactly stay on the beaten bath, so my car often gets a little of nature coming with it.
Two things happened this week that really made me feel my age, and surprisingly neither involved my back hurting.
That’s because my back always hurts now, so I can’t really count this as a new thing. It’s just a thing that happens when you start to close in on 50. It’s just part of the deal, like worrying about how my lawn looks and wondering if I should get my cholesterol checked.
If there is a book title that accurately describes my son, it would definitely be, “Dude, seriously, what makes you think that’s a good idea?”
Ok that’s probably not an actual book. But it would sum him up pretty well, oftentimes when he is, say, stringing his hammock 40 feet in the air.
My wife and I have always had two levels of cleaning. I clean. She clean cleans.
I do what I would, I guess, is what the base level of cleaning most people do. Meaning I put up dishes, sweep the floors, maybe mop, etc. This is just the starting round for her. She has to go to clean clean level. That includes such things as scrubbing baseboards, which is something my wife is very big on. She loves some clean baseboards.
I am not normally one to suffer kitchen injuries.
Now, for those of you are not regular cooks, you may be asking yourself, “And what exactly is a kitchen injury?” Well, just google “Avocado injury” and you will see that the kitchen is a minefield that has to be navigated carefully.
I’ve often seen people post things on social media when their child reaches a milestone, and they state that they can’t believe it’s happened. And while I understand that it can be surreal to see your kid get a driver’s license or graduate high school and head off to college, my wife and I have always taken a bit of a different approach.
Eighteen years ago, I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of my second child, and only son. Our daughter was two years old at the time, and Patrick Whitfield Gibbons was on his way to complete the family. And then, mid-delivery, my wife made an executive decision.
There I was, sitting in my car and the thought came to me, “What if they just never let me leave the parking garage?”
I came to this life changing question when I was trying to leave a parking garage recently, attempting to pay the whopping $1 fee I had accrued. I pulled my car up to the kiosk just before the arm that blocked the exit.
I froze in my tracks when I saw it. There it was. Perfection that eluded us for so long. I pulled out my phone and took two quick pictures and sent them to my wife. I knew – I just knew! – she would be just as excited as I was about this kitchen trash can on sale at the store.