Yesterday, I awoke, as I usually do, at 5:30 A.M., made coffee, got out the twins’ milk cups, cut their fruit, made them toast, fed them, changed their diapers, put on their clothes, worked out for 45 minutes, walked the girls in their wagon for over an hour, shopped with the twins at Fresh and Easy, returned to wash my wife’s Honda Fit, used a toothbrush to get grime out of the Fit’s alloy wheels.
I was now at last ready to eat my lunch, a chicken salad, when Carrie said that Natalie had thrown one of her shoes off during my wagon walk and did I know where the shoe was? I had walked the girls to the park and Fresh and Easy and back home. The trajectory was about three miles all over town. I’d have to retrace my footsteps to look for a shoe that Natalie might throw again. Talk about the Myth of Sisyphus.
As I prepared to walk the streets of Torrance for a shoe search (sunglasses on, baseball cap, sunscreen applied), Carrie noticed I looked pissed and she was concerned. Was I mad at her? Was I mad at Natalie? Hell no, I explained. I’m pissed off at the situation. Let me be pissed off at the situation without suspecting me of being pissed off at individuals and my Pissed Off Quotient will be kept in check. I think she understood.
Oh, and the search proved fruitless.
Comments