Kids Never Listen

(My son doesn't listen to a word I say.)

Yesterday, I got home at 6 p.m. and made dinner. We had hotdogs and biscuits. It wasn't my best effort, but it wasn't terrible, either. I cook the types of meals that produce a healthy turd. No more, no less. After that, I managed to complete two loads of laundry while vacuuming the apartment. I can really be a lazy slob, so I'm trying my best to keep up appearances. I don't want my house to turn into a disaster area.

I was finally able to relax on my sofa at 8 p.m. I watched a couple episodes of Vikings. I'm on the part where Ivar the Boneless and Harald Finehair invade England in an attempt to topple King Alfred. Sometimes, I wish that I had been born a Viking. I could carry a cool-looking axe in order to terrorize the peasants, and eventually I'd be put out of my misery by an enemy sword. In other words, their lives were short and sweet. So why do I envy them? Well, Ragnar Lothbrok would have never been caught dead in a million years with a feather duster in his hand. Do I need to say more?

I read the bible before going to bed. I'm still on the first book of Corinthians. Paul tells his followers that speaking in tongues can make the church appear insane because nobody knows what they are saying. He goes on to claim that it's better to have the gift of prophecy. I can't do either. Sadly, I'm still trying to figure out what my gift actually is.

I fell asleep at 11 p.m. and slumbered like the dead. Then I woke up at 6 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. After that, I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. The big news in today's paper is that Korea is about to get slammed by a typhoon. The storm is going to make landfall tomorrow morning. Right now, it's raining cats and dogs, and the wind is violently shaking the trees this way and that. But I'm not afraid. What's the worst that could happen?

I called my mom using Facebook Messenger.

She said, "Your son signed up for this semester's classes."

I nodded. "That's good. So what is he taking?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. It's hospital-management stuff. All those courses are probably as dry as toast."

"At least he'll be able to wear a nice suit to work."

"That's true."

I changed the subject. "Did he get the gig at Chick-fil-A?"

"His interview is actually next Monday."

"I'm sure he's a shoe in."

"Probably. Most of the fast-food restaurants around here are desperate for workers."

"Just make sure that he keeps it to twenty hours a week."

Mom took a sip of coffee. "That boy never listens to me. You know that."

"Well, do your best."

She cackled like a witch. "You're his father. Why don't you tell him?"

"Because he doesn't listen to me, either."

I checked the public-transportation app on my phone. It indicated that the bus was only eleven minutes away from my stop. So I grabbed my umbrella and nicotine gum before running out the door.

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