I really do have a lot of work to get graded in addition to a few more college recommendations I’d like to get knocked out before the break. I really did plan to stay after work today and try to pump those out, but screw it. I had last period free and I was exhausted. I knew that had I stayed, I would have been able to concentrate for an hour – tops – and then would have been rewarded with a drive home in world famous Oahu traffic. Pass. Lynnette was home sick, so I knew she and Madison would be at home. There wasn’t much of a choice to make, honestly, but I still had to talk myself into it.
It was something like a mental health day, only I went to work and decided against doing more work in the afternoon in the solitude of my classroom. Since I generally cruise boxers at home – to the chagrin of neighbors, I am sure – Abby goes nuts when she sees me put shorts on. She knows one of two things is in play: we’ve got company coming or I’m going outside. If she even hears the words “walk” or “outside,” she goes nuclear, doing everything but back flips and Christ Airs off the couch. I really just wanted to spend time with my girls. Lynnette passed on helping me wash the car. “Just come down,” I said. “Can I just sit there? Do I have to do any washing?” “No,” I said. Why would I make my Filipino Princess do work? Do I like the couch that much? Do I want a fight for Christmas?
Some mornings I arrive at work before the gates are open. I then have two parking options. I can park Back Roads (behind the school) or on Houghtailing in front of the gym. In either case, my car is positioned below some prime bird-crapping territory.
It was so bad that last week Madison asked why I had so much bird doo-doo on my car. Her tone was kind of accusatory, actually, like I had chosen to accent the exterior of my car with bird feces. “Sometimes I have to park under a tree, and then the birds just line up and say ‘1-2-3, Go!’ and (I made bird-pooping sounds which would be nearly impossible for me to replicate here with letters).” She thought it was the funniest thing. “Are they mean?” she asked. “Yeah, the bad birds try to hit daddy’s car,” I said. “They’re silly,” Madison said. I guess.
One of the few pluses of driving Lynnette’s car is that I have no emotional attachment to it. I don’t agonize over every new ding or scrape like I did with the late Mr. 8. I suppose this kind of laid-back attitude extends to the way I wash the “blue car,” as Madison calls. It. I try to get most of the dirt, scrub off the bird crap, and generally make the car look moderately presentable. It doesn’t have to be pretty, I’m only going to sit in traffic with it.
As such, I don’t mind at all that Madison helps me wash the car. She is horrible at washing the car. She makes these huge circles with the sponge that results in smaller spots of dirt once the car dries. She always wants to use the sponge on the stick (I honestly have no idea if it has a name or what to call it), but isn’t strong enough to handle it. I hope Lynnette didn’t break into a sweat while she was taking these pictures for this blog entry. If you did, sweetheart, I am so sorry.
We just ate dinner. We’re running the dishwasher tonight, and that’s a huge, huge win as far as I am concerned. What with only one non-princess living in our home, it is pretty obvious who would have washed those dirty dishes.
Lynnette rolled up some crescent rolls over turkey and cheddar cheese slices. Madison ate three, Lynnette ate three, and there are none left. I hate math and I didn’t eat lunch, so I’ll just let those be my excuses.
I contributed to dinner by making pasta with sausage and mushrooms. As you can see, having to hand wash dishes tonight would have been a lonely time consuming enterprise which would have no doubt forced me to turn to The Ghost and the Darkness on Netflix. Yes, of course, this would have extended the time required to fulfill this chore, but it would have been so much more enjoyable. Perhaps you will not agree with me, and perhaps this is why grading things takes me so long, but man, sometimes I need to go far away in my brain when dealing with menial tasks. It’s just the way I’m built.
I am alone, sitting at the computer desk in the computer room. When look to my left I see the closet door which doubles as a mirror. I can clearly discern the hump of my belly, made more noticeable by my just-consumed dinner. When I look down, I see a small caramel bar from Max’s of Manila. It is small, but by my estimate, it is exactly the same size and shape as the void in my tummy.
No one will know.