I’m writing this on the lam. From the back seat of my car at a secret location only a freckled fox would know. The kids are safe, and my windows are rolled up tight. I got the engine and the A/C running because I can get three weeks per gallon on this hog. I was suppose to go for a quick walk. Instead I darted for the car.
Enter Chapter 273 part 5: Quieten the Fightin’
We know who’s annoyingly clomping up the stairs. And we know who’s irritatingly hopping down them. We know who’s agitatedly sprinting down the hall. And we know who’s aggravatingly fighting in them. We know EVERYTHING about EVERYONE under our roof. From the way they lick their CornNut-looking tooth, to the way they burp when they watch scary movies. During a quarantine lockdown, our loved one’s idiosyncrasies may drive us mad; domestic abuse mad. So before we turn our relationships into a series of Tom & Jerry fights…put the arsenic away, unplug the blow dryer, and drain the bath. And while we’re at it, let’s give the serial killing, forensic file, and episodes of How (Not) To Kill Your Husband documentaries a binge-eating-break. Don’t let their intolerable mannerisms lead us from locked down to locked up. Leave, breathe and change your focus.
It was “Daad!”, “Daaddy!”, “Caarl!” this. And “Daad!”, “Daaddy!”, “Caarl!” that. Hearing it was making me cringe. It was the fourth calling in mere minutes. A fly couldn’t land on a piece of doo-doo with this much interruption. I was trying to finish the highly intriguing case of “Furious over Furniture” on The People’s Court. But with all the distractions, all I did was curse our mixed socks (family). My grimace grew into a permanent scowl. “Imtiredofthisfrickenstayinthehouseshit”, became my mumbling mantra. The tension of the outstretched kitchen towel between my fist told me it was time to go before I become known as “The Kitchenside Strangler”. “I’m leaving!! Be back in five minutes!”, I announced. I grabbed my phone, charger, iPad, keys and a thermos full of cider. Those five minutes turned to thirty which then turned to an hour which eventually took more than two. It was a peaceful escape. I’m on my way home. Back to the lockdown, a calmer and more patient man.