By Tony Hicks
Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010 at 1:05 pm in Uncategorized.
The scene is my house, at 7:10 this morning.
I just left the breakfast table to get the 8-year-old out of bed, a task that occasionally requires a crowbar and/or explosives.
Lorelei (getting out of bed, walking five yards and laying back down on the couch): “Tony, can you turn on the TV and get me a blanket?”
Me (looking at her like she just peeled her head open and spilled her brain onto the carpet): “What?”
Lorelei (looking defensive): OK, I’ll turn on the TV. You get me the blanket.
Me (still staring, but now more like Clint Eastwood when he’s about to shoot someone): “What did you say?”
Lorelei (looking irritated): “What? We both have jobs to do.”
I think it’s fairly miraculous I only went straight back to the table and continued eating my breakfast, considering I’d been awake since 3 a.m., spending hours tossing and turning and trying to get back to sleep. It’s safe to say I wasn’t in the chipperest mood. You know, if “chipperest” is a real word.
It’s days like today I wish it was 1940 and I lived on a farm. With a woodshed.