I paid a bunch of bills. Praise be for tax refunds. Without them I would be nothing, it would be hard to pay the oil company with my New Teen Titans back issues. Not impossible, just hard.
It's a Sunday, my wife had to work today. Neither of us usually works on the weekends, but occasionally something comes up and we have to. Such is life in the debt loaded 'burbs. So I stayed home with The Dude (well, no, not that dude.) The Dude is several months shy of two years old, generally easy going, remarkably thoughtful for his age, and the cutest smartest thing on two legs. But I admit, I could be biased. He is also, lately, becoming very determined, and we've entered the stage of occasional freak outs in public places.
Which is an interesting experience. I find I go inward, and the rest of the world blurs out a bit, while I focus every bit of my being onto my child, who is busy screaming and thrashing on the floor in the frozen food section of the grocery store; in front of the frozen pizzas actually. I am still aware of the rest of the world, and I am aware that much of the rest of the world immediately in my surroundings is staring at me, but I kind of don't care. It's a thing, it happens, it's natural, we'll get over it and move on. We're only in the grocery store after all, it's not like we're at the movies or the opera or a Phish show or something. We weren't really gonna harsh anyone's mellow too bad.
But what I really want to talk about is this poop he made this morning. Poor lil' guy has been a sick lately and his poops have been, well, kinda funky. But this thing, this morning, it was hellacious. I had to get out tools, special tools, to deal with this mess. Massive and putrid and...oh god. You know what I needed? That stuff they put under their noses in the autopsy scene in "Lambs"? I needed that stuff.
Then again, I'm not really good with the poop duty anyway, so perhaps I exaggerate.
The Dude seemed rather indifferent to the whole affair. And is feeling fine now, thank you.