My So Called Life

The weight of responsibility

/ Shane / 2 Comments

Yesterday, Sara and the kids arrived from their long walk home from school.

“Ollie, where’s your backpack?” asked Sara.
Ollie looked around confused. “I don’t know.”
“You were wearing it when we were at school, but you’re not wearing it now.”

Ollie was just as puzzled as anybody. He’d had it, and now it was gone. Poof. Quite frankly, that’s not the sort of thing he usually has to worry about.

Now, to Ollie’s credit, he felt pretty terrible about the whole thing (and the backpack was recovered this morning…he’d taken it off by Evie’s class). But wouldn’t it be great to be a kid again? Where you could just blithely walk about 30 minutes home and never for a second wonder, “Where’s my backpack?” or “Am I carrying everything I’m supposed to have?” or “What am I going to make for dinner? How are we going to get the kids to their activities on Saturday? Are we saving enough for retirement? What about college? Are my kids safe at school? Are any of us safe? Is the world going to hell? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?

There is a weight to responsibility. Even when you’re not thinking about it, it’s there. The weight of kids, and money, and your job, and your relationship with your spouse, home ownership, friends…I could go on. As an adult, it’s such a common feeling, that you almost can’t notice it until it’s gone.

For example, lets say I’m at home, but an aunt or uncle or grandparent or whoever is playing with the kids. I’m not actively taking charge of the kids, but the weight of responsibility is still with me. I’m still thinking, “Are they hungry? Should I make a snack? When’s the last time they went to the bathroom? Is the laundry clean? Do I need to get milk from the grocery store? Does Ollie need a new winter coat? Are the kids getting enough protein? Does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?

I’m not even aware of all these thoughts, buzzing around in my head like gnats. But when the kids are gone for the weekend? Hallelujah, the weight is lifted! Suddenly I don’t have to worry about making sure they eat, or get somewhere on time, or have clean clothes, or a million other things. It’s like a muscle relaxes that you didn’t even know was tensed.

It’s easy to say, “Hey, you should like, not do that.” But it’s not quite as easy to do in real life. Being in charge, having to make decisions, it’s not something that you’re actively *doing*, so stopping doesn’t really make sense. (And forget going on vacation, that’s MORE stressful, if anything.)

It sure would feel magnificent to be able to set down those burdens like a backpack, even for a moment.

Life: “Were the kids housed, clothed, nourished, and loved today? Did your work project meet the deadline? Did you pick up toilet paper and fix the drain and make the car payment?”
Me, confused: “Uh…I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I had all that under control, but, uh…I don’t seem to have it anymore. To be perfectly honest, I thought someone else was taking care of that.”

::Squints at reader, reading this right now::
“Hey, does that guy look like he could possibly be infected with zombie flu?”

Strapping on the popcorn feedbag

/ Shane / 2 Comments

By Jove, it actually works!

Popcorn Feedbag

This seems like a good idea, but to be honest, it works a bit better on paper than in real life. Vastly less efficient than using my hands.

Several chin cramps later, I was told I mostly looked like I was having a stroke.

popcorn or stroke

(Inspiration via Emily)

 

Another day older, and deeper in debt

/ Shane / Leave a comment

So, it’s my birthday.

I had a rough plan of talking about how my birthday always makes me feel like posting a “year in review” post even though I really didn’t have anything important to say, but then I sat down and read last year’s birthday post and I already said all of that, except funnier.

So.

Not much to say. Good year. Well documented.

This is a weird thing to say, but maybe I do feel more grown up? Part of it is that I’ve noticed that the way I think about things has definitely changed. Definitely more into the long view, definitely feel like I understand the previous generation a bit more. Better understand what it means to be a parent, and how having kids changes how you approach life. Another part of it is that this is the first year in a while that I feel like I can see flaws in myself that I need to work on. The flaws were always there, but I can see them now. That’s growing up, right?

It also took me 35 years to figure out that boots and a hood are awesome and amazing things in the winter.

What can I say, I’m a slow learner.

The $25 car repair

/ Shane / Leave a comment

What is it about cars? From used car salesmen, to shady repair shops, they just seem to attract unsavory characters. I have a couple of horror stories (some even documented on this blog), and I’m sure you do too. Quite frankly, the negative experiences FAR, FAR out-weigh the positive experiences.

So when I do get a positive experience, I am more than happy to crow about it.

Turns out I had just such an experience with Aspen Auto Body. Remember that enormous scratch I put down the side of my car the other day? They fixed it. For TWENTY FIVE BUCKS.

I had some vague notions of buying the paint and trying to touch it up myself. The paint was about $10, and from what I read online people were saying like $700 for a shop to fix something like that (apparently they just replace the whole panel these days rather than repair them, and this was across both doors). So it seemed like I had little to lose. However, the car has to be warm for the paint to take which was a bit of a problem (I don’t have a garage), and after watching a few tutorials on youtube, I was worried it was going to be a bit more painstaking than I was willing to spend. Most recommend dabbing the paint on with a toothpick. Did I mention this was an enormous scratch?

Worse, while I dithered around trying to make a decision, it started to rust (in about a week…yay Chicago winter!). So now I would need to sand it, etc.

I decided to get an estimate, just to make see where I was at. Fortunately, I don’t have a “usual” body shop, so Aspen was referred to me. It was very close by work, tucked away on a little access road where you would never find it. I ran it over for an estimate.

“If there’s a cheap way to fix it and an expensive way, I’d go for the cheap way,” I ventured.
“Oh, in that case, we could just touch it up,” he said. “Maybe $30?”
“Thirty?” I repeated in disbelief, thinking maybe I’d misheard. “Thirty dollars?”

I honestly thought he’d laugh at me and say, “Thirty THOUSAND you idiot.” Repair shops around here usually charge something like $90 an hour. I can’t even get an estimate for $30. I’m lucky to get a haircut for $30.

The place was very low key, but by god if they didn’t fix it for $25. I paid cash. And it looks great! You can see the paint if you get close, but from a distance it’s pretty unnoticable. It’s *certainly* a lot better than I would have done, and the paint itself was $10, so they only charged me $15 in labor. $15!

Fast, cheap, and high quality to boot. Best $15 I ever spent.

Happening Now: Cat Vomit

/ Shane / Leave a comment

I’m sitting at the computer, casually browsing facebook, when I hear the cat getting ready to hork. I look over and she’s hunched over the rug, not more than a foot from the hardwood floor.

Now, in case you don’t have a cat, cleaning up cat vomit (something you, unfortunately, do a lot of) is about 7.432 billion times easier on hardwood than rug. Not having to clean up cat vomit would be the best, but second best would be cat vomit on the hardwood.

I leapt into action grabbing the cat and desperately flinging her vomit-side out.

Too late.

I got her mid-spew, resulting in a 3 foot cat-vomit arc across the living room. So it turns out there is something worse than cat puke on the rug: cat puke on a wide arc of the rug, followed by cat puke on a wide arc of the hardwood.

On the other hand, my life’s not so rough: nobody has ever squeezed me mid-puke and spun me around like some kind of crazy-merry-go-round-vomit-squirt-gun-bagpipe.

So, there’s that.