Diary Day 3
Friday, April 27, 2018
I kind of wanted to start out like I started my first entry way back in November, “Woke up/got outta bed/dragged a comb across my head,” but my day really begins the night before. Don’t they all?
I returned home on April 28 to the failure of an essential appliance to first-world living. A call to the 24-hour hotline assured me it was safe to use, yes, and they’d call to take a look at it in the morning. Based on how I described it, it didn’t sound too bad, he said, nicely shading the cash-register dollar signs I’m sure my call was ringing in his head.
Sure enough, Friday morning brought a ten-minute diagnosis of product failure. I even got to see it with my own eyes. Warranty? Who bothers to send in the card? And even so, it was 27 days past. TWENTY-SEVEN %^*&$%# DAYS.
I got the morning away from the office to rationalize my anti-lottery victory. I have two teenagers at home, plus one in college. The house has been home for 15 years, and the only one most of them remember, but it is too large for me. I’ve long planned to downsize once I’m an empty-nester. Just maybe, I realized later in the day, I’ve bought my last water heater.
Much of my afternoon has been spent with the work project that was delayed this morning. My deadline is soft and self-imposed, but I’d like to wrap it up by the end of the month. A quiet day today and Monday may get that goal realized.
Another matter is weighing on my mind today is what to do when divorcees move on with their lives. The kids’ mother and I are on good terms, and have a near-model relationship for exes, even after five years apart. I realize that I am fortunate to not have to deal with the issues many of my peers have faced. My kids’ mother has moved on with her life, with her own new home and new relationship. My kids have adapted to this reasonably well. They seem uncomfortable with my doing the same. Maybe it’s the final indicator of change, I’m not really sure.
With a pleasant evening for a change, I’d like to get in a walk after work. I walk for recreation and relaxation and it allows me to alternately clear my head and think of ideas, and sometimes I get antsy if I can’t do it regularly. But I’ve worked late tonight to make up for lost time this morning, and my kids will be hungry for dinner by the time I am getting home.
Tonight we are together before they return to their mother’s, so I will make them dinner. I am not the cook she is. Given my day, I hope they will eat what I am making without complaint. They comply, and we enjoy a homemade dinner of linguine with pesto cream sauce. The alternative that I kept under my hat was some more takeout crap. I am not a healthy eater, and I would call the drive-through line a vice of mine. I don’t mind putting cheap food in my own stomach, but I don’t like to do it to the kids. Sometimes their limited tastes can also make Muncie’s endless options of fast food restaurants seem small and uninspired.
If all goes smoothly tonight, I will be able to watch the Pacers’ playoff game. Their series with the Cavs and their perennial nemesis, LeBron James, has been exciting and James is on the verge of beating the Pacers nearly single-handedly, as he has done across his career with both Miami and Cleveland. The last time the Pacers had a contender, LeBron played on his Miami super team which eliminated the Pacers from the playoffs three consecutive years.
I’m a basketball fan and admit I may follow sports at an unhealthy level. It is a constant source of conversation during the winter and throughout the year, and I keep a blog of another long-suffering team, Ball State, on the internet and its comment threads. It isn’t just basketball. In the spring and summer baseball occupies a lot of my time and most of my media habits. People who knew me growing up thought I’d make a career of sports. My natural abilities(!) never made that possible, and I wanted a stable life and career once I started a family. The life of a sports commentator or front-office type had little appeal to me.
The Pacers have won and won big to force a decisive final game Sunday in Cleveland. In a televised doubleheader, the team the Pacers’ former star, Paul George, forced a trade to has been eliminated from the playoffs. My day ends after midnight with some trash talk on Facebook, the non-political healthy kind where we laugh and no one comes away with hurt feelings.
As I crawl into bed, I think of ending the day with another lyric the Beatles made commercially famous, “Good Night/Sleep Tight.”