The baby boy enjoyed his last musical festival so much that he decided to go on another one. He left today. I could vomit. It’s really hot out. What if he doesn’t drink enough water? What if he forgot sun screen? What if he joins a cult that worships Garbage Pail Kids? You don’t know. The danger is out there.
I was a young adult when Garbage Pail Kids came out. I thought they were mostly lame, but kind of disturbing. I remember they were a response to Cabbage Patch dolls. My older son had a Cabbage Patch doll named Robin, which was weird because there was a consultant from Connecticut doing a software upgrade at the company I worked for named Robin. Robin was 6′ 8″ and had a grizzly Adams beard. I had a massive crush on him. Then my kid gets a doll named Robin and I thought it was a sign. I mean, the biggest sign should have been that my marriage was shit, but no, I thought the Cabbage Patch doll was a sign. I think back at how many times I saw “signs” in things and it makes me cringe a bit. I don’t think I got cynical when I got older. I think one day my logic stepped up and said “Okay, that’s about enough of that shit.” But I really digress. That got weird for a minute. And why in the fuck would I think about Garbage Pail Kids in the first place?
So, I’m antsy and worried and having a hard time grasping many coherent thoughts. My brain is an asshole. Randy and I have the next 4 days to ourselves and I thought it best to use the time wisely.
Me: I’m kind of lame.
Randy: I am not having this conversation.
Oh, but he is wrong. Of course we are. I mean, it’s not going to end up any place rational, but we’re definitely having this conversation.
Me: I’m a little lame.
Me: Dude, I’ve seen every episode of Buffy at least 8 times. And I’m 54 years old. I’m lame and kind of weird.
Randy: 8 times? Would we say 8?
Me: Really? I mean I guess it could be more. What if it’s like, 22 times?
Randy: Yeah, you’re a little lame.
Randy: You’re watching Buffy again after I’m asleep, aren’t you?
Me: I skipped over a bunch of episodes. Almost to the Angel spin off.
Randy: You’re not lame, you’re a dent head.
And then we laughed like crazy people.
The reason he called me a dent head is because I noticed in a picture my sister took of us that we both have dents on the same spot on our foreheads. I pointed it out to him while we were driving to Tennessee last month. Then, he called me a dent head and he just won’t stop. I do encourage the behavior though, by cracking up every time he says it.
So, we’re laughing and I’m ticking through my brain on what I have to still get done this evening.
Me: Hold on a minute. I have to talk to you about this before I forget.
Randy made his absurd wide eye face that says Holy fuck, she’s about to say something super serious.
Me: I have three things to do still. I have to make my lunch for tomorrow, clean the cat boxes, and take a shower.
Randy: Whatever, dent head.
Randy: We were just laughing and having a good time. You don’t have a schedule to keep right now. We have an empty nest.
Me: Yeah, I know, I was just trying to…
Randy: Ruin it.
And then we cracked up again because that shit was funny.
Now, I have to be serious. I still have those three things to do.
Baby boy should be back home by the time I post this. In the mean time, I plan on drinking and worrying. And probably painting my family room.