Tippy Toe: Life’s Ruinous Moments
Sometimes what starts out as a perfect and beautiful day full of optimism and hope can take a turn for the worse. Sometimes it only takes a few scant seconds.
I woke up first. Stealthily I slipped out of the covers like a ninja lynx. I tiptoed across the room. My wife was zonked and she needed to sleep in. With God as my witness I vowed to do my part.
On the bedroom doorknob hung the finest shirt that I owned. I have this annoying habit of putting shirts on knobs rather than hanging them up. It drives my wife nuts. I had worn it to a funeral the day before. My Sunday best consists of a black short-sleeved button-up shirt, the only blue jeans I own without holes in the knees, white socks and a pair of sneakers. Yep, that’s as good as it gets.
I wanted to keep noise out of the bedroom but I couldn’t close the door all the way because of the cats. They show great magic at doors that are closed to them and that would undoubtedly wake her up. So I gently nudged the door so it was mostly closed to help keep out light and noise.
In a good mood, I then proceeded to start my day. Little did I know it was already too late. The berg had already been struck. I just didn’t know it yet.
A few seconds later and my wife was up. What the hell?!
“What are you doing awake, my Queen?” I politely inquired.
“The cats were in the bedroom and they couldn’t get out.”
Oh shit.
“But I left the door cracked just so that wouldn’t happen, my love.”
“Your goddamned shirt was in the way. They couldn’t get out.”
Oh shit.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s not all,” she added.
I was filled with dread.
“They shredded your shirt.”
And, sometimes, that’s all it takes. Get out of bed and the hammer of life comes down hard and bone-crushingly shatters you, your dreams and even your shirt.
I looked at my watch. I’d been awake for 42 seconds.
Good times.
Archaeological Institute of Abyss
Our scientists have made an interesting discovery: A hand-scrawled message, on a piece of yellowed and ruled piece of parchment, that we have dated as being approximately 10 years old.
There are a few interesting facts about this artifact:
- The artifact must be about 10 years old because, at the time of her wedding, my wife did, in fact, have a ring. This is proof the parchment predates the wedding.
- I had the prescience of thought to carefully preserve the artifact and keep it safe all this time. I must have recognized the cultural significance.
- No cameras from that time period are known to exist. Perhaps we’ll never know what prompted the author to put pen to paper.
- My wife’s bare finger is simply not that interesting.
Few artifacts from that time period are known to exist. As such we’ll be forwarding the piece on to the Smithsonian, NASA, Martha Stewart or any organization willing to accept it and keep it on display for the public to enjoy. We’re open to suggestions if they all turn us down.
The Persistent Gardener
Vegetation portrayal.
The other day the world came and took a shit on our front door.
Wow. Have I mastered the art of the literary opening or what? -Ed.
Anywho, we came home and found a flyer had been stuck in the front door of our house. Just like I documented recently, our house is always Under Siege.
Yes, sadly, so far we haven’t been able to raise the money for guard towers with machine guns and snipers. Maybe I should list my modest home defense project on KickStarter? How much would you donate?
It was an 8-1/2″ x 11″ piece of standard printer paper. This flyer was done on the cheap.
For those keeping track, that’s two warning signs already and we haven’t even talked about the content of the flyer yet.
Already hating the guts of whoever was responsible, I finally took a look. It was a B&W ad for a landscaper dude. It was amateur hour all the way. Even I could have done a better job. And the most prominent part of the ad? A blown up and grainy closeup photograph of the dude’s face. Maybe he was part real estate agent, too?
Strike Three! Strike Four! Yer outta here, chump!
I googled the guy’s name and found that he had been cited by the state for landscaping without a license. Yup, yup.
That’s about the time my wife muttered something about needing yard work done, picked up the phone and gave the guy a ring.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
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Girls Day In
My wife in action. (Actor portrayal.)
There was a sense of strange foreboding. My wife had control of the remote. Boldly and apparently to no one in particular she announced, “I’m going to pretend that I’m home alone and watch whatever I want.”
Wow. So assertive.
The TV came on and the Netflix logo loomed large.
It was a cozy Saturday afternoon. The kind of day for which I live. Outside were blue skies. Inside the sunlight streamed in windows. It was quiet. We were basking in the luxuriousness of nothing to do. My wife snuggled up in her TV blanket. I did the same. Cats were lounging around and purring.
These are the moments of which dreams are made. I believe it is times like these that make life worth living. No work. No responsibilities. Safely ensconced in your castle. Nothing to do except stretch out under your blanket. The rest of the world can wait.
Where the hell is my damn cup coffee with International Delights creamer? I want to celebrate this, one of the moments of my life!
And it was all going so good, too. Perhaps a little too good.
Then she pointed that thing at the TV and pushed PLAY.
This shit just got serious.
Netflix! Is there anything it can’t do? I mean besides show me a list of “Recently Watched” titles?
Surprise! You are a guest blog!
Today I shot my wife an email and asked, simply, “How did it go?”
I try to be coy in emails that pass through “company-owned email servers.” Fuck ’em! Never include more information than necessary. Ever. I also refer to people by a single letter. It’s up to my wife to grok the meaning.
And that she did just fine.
Somehow she knew that I was asking about her trip to the DMV. I loved her reply so much I decided to make it a guest post. I plan to offer a reading of this at poet’s corner down at the beatnik place one night soon. Enjoy!
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Marital Arts – Martial Law
I know exactly where you are. I know what you are doing. I know what you did last summer. Are you in the house alone?
How well can you ever really know another human being? You think that person is your friend? How would they react when the chips are really down? Or, in some cases, what have they already done behind your back? (Past tense.)
Believe it or not, I haven’t shared all of the juiciest tidbits about my boss. Not yet. But wait, there’s more!
Yes, I’ve deliberately held back when it comes to revealing all that could be revealed. The man is a veritable gold mine of asshat behavior. Call it some sick sense of decorum or good form, but (unlike him) I have my limits.
I do want to paint an accurate portrait of the lumbering mass but I have to be choosey. And some stories I’ll probably end up taking to my grave. But I have decided the following should be made available for public consumption. And it’s 100% true. I couldn’t make up shit like this.
One thing that makes the boss so special is the sheer totality of what he is. He brings his A-game to every person, every situation. Employees, of course. But also customers, friends, his children, and people he meets on the street.
Oh, wait. I almost forgot.
He also brings it to his wife.
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[Guest Post] 2012 The Year in Respew
This year, rather than post the same “hey look at me!” crapola found on every other WordPress blog (no offense intended) I decided to do something different. I asked my wife to share her favorite blog posts from 2012 and offer commentary. Her detailed remarks, verbatim quotations, and links to her hand-selected posts are found under the video below.
Enjoy!
-Ed
Shouts from the Abyss 
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