Atypical Saturday

Some days defy description.  Not because they're unique, but because you have the time to analyze them in detail when they're over.

I woke up to a driving rainstorm, and as often happens, the Rube Goldburg drain system from my sump pump usually comes apart outside.  So I waded out in the yard in the rain ... in my t-shirt and boxer shorts and put it back together.  Later, I crabbed at Jan when she went out on the front porch in her night shirt to save a drowning plant.  A unique double standard on my part.

I was excited this morning when my Saturday cleaning routine went a half hour short because our downstairs bathroom is torn apart.  The biggest charge I've gotten out of the thousands of dollars in renovation costs that I've realized so far is that I didn't have to clean one room.

I had to wear a tie this afternoon because we went to a wedding.  I haven't worn a tie in over a year and I was amazed when I still knew how to knot it.  I guess it's like riding a bicycle or some shit like that.  You never forget.

At said wedding, there was a giant picture behind the stage (or whatever you call it) of a kinda stoned looking Jesus staring at me out of the fourth wall with his hands outstretched to a fellow sitting on a stool, who was studying them intently.  Jan said the guy was Doubting Thomas.  I was surprised because I thought Doubting Thomas was some cartoon character in Highlights Magazine ... sort of like Goofus and Gallant.  Damn ... you learn something every day.

At same said wedding, the bride and groom were both going down the aisle for the second time, and I was struck at how bored they looked, and how they were more concerned with the intricacies of their Lutheran wedding rites than they were joyful at their union.  I decided that I didn't want to get married again if that's all the enthusiasm I could whip up.

We did some grocery shopping at Walmart late this afternoon.  When we got to the parking lot I realized that we hadn't been charged for two cases of Diet Coke.  I felt a slight twinge of guilt, but at the same time I felt delightfully criminal-y.  I wondered if that was the way a bank robber feels as he runs to his getaway car with his sack of swag just before the dye pack explodes.

Anyway, it's really a luxury when you can take a minute or two at the end of the day and mull over the things that happened.  Sometimes I can see why people fear death. They're probably afraid of all the things they'll miss.

I guess they have a point.