AS I stare out on a snowy April morning, everything comes crashing down. You miss one mortgage payment the foreclosure slips come. You fail to give your daughter medicine in the midst of fever and we are off to the hospital. You fail to give your wife the love and attention she needs, you get handed papers.
And it isn't even 9am. Guess after I get the test results from the doctor I head back to my hometown and see if my folks will have me. Sounds about right for a 40 year old to be moving back in. Maybe I can hang my nerf hoop and Xavier McDaniels poster up. The 10" tv is gonna be a problem. Homemade meals might be a benefit. Maybe I head back to dating life as a giant, unshaven, unemployed slacker. That's hot, right?
Maybe I overreact. Perhaps this is all for the best. Sickness can be cured. The housing market has to pick up. And me, well, that is a work in progress. At least I have Opening Day!!! Baseball, America's game and one of my true passions. This clearly is the year my beloved Astros will win the World Series!! And of course the hated Yankees and Mets are destined for last place.
And, when the dust settles, this pretentious, self absorbed blog will be picked up by Showtime for a TV project. A bidding war will commence begging for my services. "What's that HBO? You want to give me how much more than my original offer?"
Then I can purchase a wonderful place in the West Village. And maybe, just maybe, I will be able to afford the personal barista I have been wanting for years. I can see me as Salinger-esque recluse so easily. Sending out for food... Urban Outfitters t-shirts... back issued magazines...
For now, I wonder how I am going to write more without access to a computer? Blogging from local library I suppose. Hmm, I am a little scared of library folk. Now I am staring at the prospect of joing their ranks. I never got the hang of reading newspapers on those long wooden holders.
An unbelievable bummer to be in such desperate ways. And when I look in the mirror I know I have only myself to blame.
And it isn't even 9am. Guess after I get the test results from the doctor I head back to my hometown and see if my folks will have me. Sounds about right for a 40 year old to be moving back in. Maybe I can hang my nerf hoop and Xavier McDaniels poster up. The 10" tv is gonna be a problem. Homemade meals might be a benefit. Maybe I head back to dating life as a giant, unshaven, unemployed slacker. That's hot, right?
Maybe I overreact. Perhaps this is all for the best. Sickness can be cured. The housing market has to pick up. And me, well, that is a work in progress. At least I have Opening Day!!! Baseball, America's game and one of my true passions. This clearly is the year my beloved Astros will win the World Series!! And of course the hated Yankees and Mets are destined for last place.
And, when the dust settles, this pretentious, self absorbed blog will be picked up by Showtime for a TV project. A bidding war will commence begging for my services. "What's that HBO? You want to give me how much more than my original offer?"
Then I can purchase a wonderful place in the West Village. And maybe, just maybe, I will be able to afford the personal barista I have been wanting for years. I can see me as Salinger-esque recluse so easily. Sending out for food... Urban Outfitters t-shirts... back issued magazines...
For now, I wonder how I am going to write more without access to a computer? Blogging from local library I suppose. Hmm, I am a little scared of library folk. Now I am staring at the prospect of joing their ranks. I never got the hang of reading newspapers on those long wooden holders.
An unbelievable bummer to be in such desperate ways. And when I look in the mirror I know I have only myself to blame.
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