Labor Day Weekend

My day went about as you’d expect.

I woke up early, poured coffee in some Bailey’s, and worked on my about page for an hour. No matter how many times I work on my about page I always look at it again and think there’s something wrong. I guess I’m about too many things to define in 400 words and 7 pictures. Oh well, tomorrow’s another day. Another attempt.

Maybe I’m undefinable?

About a half hour before church I realized I had promised the night before to take the mother-in-law to bingo. That meant I had to hit the shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, drop her off, fill the cooler with beer and ice, and arrive in 30 minutes. Wasn’t going to happen.

So, I texted everybody to tell them I’d be late. Then I popped a leftover McDonald’s burger in the microwave and took my sweet time.

Once I arrived, the next six hours were about keeping cool in the pool, drinking beer, discussing bleeding-heart liberal politics with my right-wing nut-job friend, laughing out loud, and gorging on snack foods. Is this a great country or what?

Around mid-afternoon Mrs C text me to ask if I was going to be much longer. She sleeps in on Sundays, as often and as long as she possibly can. I dutifully responded that I was at her disposal.

She ordered a coffee.

I hit the Starbucks on the corner around from the house and delivered her a venti soy caramel macchiato at precisely 140 degrees. I’m sure you’d do the same for your wife.

After the briefest of naps, I got up and played ball with the dog for a bit and then had a great idea for an edit to my about page. I implemented the edit then erased it. I’m really no good whatsoever at what I’m about.

Maybe I could ask my right-wing nut-job friend to write it for me?

At this moment in time I am writing a brief blog entry about absolutely nothing, sipping on another beer, listening to Ludo snore, and hearing the sound of the shower as Mrs C prepares for her day. It’s 4:30 in the afternoon.

After she runs some errands I’m going to put some meat on the grill and sit outside in 110-degree weather, throw the ball for my dog, and – in a plot twist you never saw coming – drink some beer.

I’m off work tomorrow. It’s Labor Day weekend.

My day went about as you’d expect.

Author: Tom Being Tom

Tom writes, drinks beer, loves his wife, and hangs out with Golden Retrievers. His worldview was formed by the strange intermingling of comic book superheroes, decades of political analysis, the Air Coryell offense, and an atheistic spiritual awakening. He intends to save the world next Thursday.

10 thoughts on “Labor Day Weekend”

  1. I shall try, my friend, I shall try. Mrs C has to work tomorrow, which screws with the balance. I shall, after all, spend my Labor Day laboring, in the yard, until the smoke or heat drives me back indoors.

    I hope you’re enjoying your weekend as well. Miss ya! Beer soon!

  2. Sounds like a perfectly excellent weekend! I have a guess as to why the “about” page is such a daunting thing. For me, it’s related to a similar problem I’ve had with the whole world of online dating. I am embarrassed to advertise myself. “Hey, Ladies! If you’re looking for someone who is handsome and smart and funny and kind and everything you’ve ever dreamed of, I’m your guy!” Ick. I always end up scrapping all that and posting something that’s stupid and funny and says absolutely nothing about me whatsoever. Then I wonder why so few women respond.

    1. Lol! Yeah, I have a feeling my about page will end up stupid and funny and absolutely nothing about me. If I even have one at all.

      This morning I jumped on Discover and found more people to annoy with my hopefully-eloquent but often-overwritten responses. It was more fun than working on my about page. Working on my own stuff most of the time is exhausting. Learning about others, and sharing my perspective in their comment section, that’s the sweet spot.

      I mean, look at the great friends I’ve made already. 😎

      Your theory is a good one, my friend. I’m terrible at self-promotion. Read, write, respect, and just be Tom. That’s the life for me. 😊

  3. A friend’s nanna used to keep a freezer full of McDonald’s cheeseburgers. Everyone should have a right-wing nut job friend. I miss sleeping.

    1. Everyone at church* knows of what I call “the world’s most perfect breakfast.” 30 seconds in the microwave, 30 seconds to eat, and I’m ready for a morning full of beer. The leftover McDonald’s hamburger; one of life’s most elegant gifts. Classy. That’s me.

      My friend is the nuttiest. A lifetime of being a business owner, he’s done quite well for himself. Very proud of him. But, since Trump, he’s also political. Insanely so. I appreciate the conversations we have because I’ve never known anyone quite so far along and still so jaded about it all. When I say something like “people are not just machines designed to only make money, pal” I love to see that little vein pop in his forehead and hear the forthcoming rant.

      Folks around us do everything they can to make sure we don’t sit together. 😎

      My wife sleeps enough for all three of us. She’s got this. 😉

      1. *Church, if you haven’t figured it out yet, is a euphemism for Sunday-morning-beer-drinking-with-friends.** Almost nobody in America loads up an ice chest full of beer to go worship Jesus. Although, if they did, I might change my evil ways. 😆

        1. **Regular “church” is in a tavern. “Pool church” is in someone’s pool (usually the right-wing nut job’s pool). “Reno church” is in Reno, a gambling town about 3 hours from here. 30 of us or so go to together 2-3 times a year. “Vegas church” is in Las Vegas, but that’s only happened once. “Road church” can happen anywhere someone orders a beer in solidarity with our Sunday morning ritual. 😎

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