White Lightning Axiom: Redux

My week days can be so banal. Wake up to obscure music on clock radio, hit snooze, wake, snooze (repeat several times). Finally realize that it's morning and bumble off to let the cybernetic hell hounds out. Cart away mountains of poo and then feed the prancing ninnies more fodder for their dirty-work the next morn. Realize *I* need to use the bathroom and look at the visage of death warmed over in the mirror. I need to put a picture over the mirrors in the bathroom. The indurate face staring back at me reminds myself that I should be CELEBRATING a new day, no accepting the indignity of being startled from some quickly forgotten gossamer dream. Little context, lesser substance, zero confluence.

After wrapping up my morning constitutional, either I go trundle the Tyrants up and get them to start breakfast, or I let the Mrs handle that variably dangerous task and involve myself with getting their breakfast and lunch ready ... along with my own daily vittles. Raiding the larder, I try to make sure they get something different every morning of the week. Invariably, it has to be something they can eat in our guest bed in front of the TiVo-TV w/o making a tremendous mess. So no liquids. Yeah, that means no eggs either. If I were not so lazy, I would get up an hour earlier and make them a good Minnesota Breakfast. You know, 12 eggs, bacon, toast, kolachies, steak, coffee, slice of apple pie in a bowl of cream ... standard 'bit of breakfast'. As it stands, we already spend over $500USD on food alone per month. So frugality (scrooge!) and sleep (sloth) prevail. That, and it prevents them from invading the bathroom while the Mrs or I are trying to take the all important "morning wake-up shower". Without that, neither of us could be described as anything close to amicable. I've bitten heads off for less. If you do not recall, at the beginning of the summer, the old water boiler krumped on us over Memorial Day Weekend. Yeah, I was a bit of a grumpy gus, but the Mrs damn near laid waste to the population surrounding the Haupertonian Manor for 'Breathing too loud, JUST STOP BREATHING!'.

Hmmm, where was I. My train of thought got derailed ... fatalities. Yes, anyways ... feed the kids, prep breakfast, shower, shave and brush teeth. I've been using the master bath (tiny thing it is) to get back into the old ways and I've noticed that the pressure is much reduced. I think the filter is clogged so we may have to call our plumber to do something about it. I would do this myself, but I have seen what it takes to replace the filter and I would rather Johnas do this. I would certainly break the damn thing and need to call him anyways ... might as well cut to the chase. Another thing about the shower ... I've decided it is my duty to try to use up all those 'single application' packets of shampoo, soap and tooth-paste that we have accumulated over the years. My coworkers are noticing too. My hair looks more 'perky' and lustrous apparently. The usual treatment of lye and burning acids to wash my body/hair have given me split ends and dulled the color. Gee, fashion plate metrosexual that I am, you think I would have avoided that! PTTTHHHH! So, every body is fed and groomed ... Pack up the 100 metric tons of crap I need to lug about every day in the POS SuperSaturn and off I go. Throw the Tyrants out of the airlock with chutes on as I rocket past the ReEducation Camp and spend my 15 minutes getting to work trying to find a song on the radio that does not make me vomit. Do this 5 days a week, you tend not to notice the little nuances every day. I must be getting old because I find this ... comforting.

Work for 8 hrs, flee the building. Snatch tyrants, go swimming for an hour, get pummeled by the lollipop guild for an hour at TDS, then spend another hour and a half getting pummeled by the Black-Belt-Brigade. Home, read bed-time story, get drinks for kids, kisses, eat dinner, kisses for Mrs, prep for next day (i.e. get out one of the 5 identical outfits I wear to work [black denim, black socks, tighty-whities{TMI?}, grey t-shirt]), last blogosphere scan; pass out. Where should I fit in the introspection? The unexamined life is not worth living ...

Shove it Socrates.

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