New Year’s Resolution Gone Awry
Okay, this year I’m going to get my act together. Really!
I am a late sleeper. My friends know to never call me before 11 AM. Nothing ever good has ever happened to me before noon. If the phone rings, it’s bad news or a telemarketer in Sri Lanka is appraising me of my car warranty. If my alarm goes off, it means heading to Richmond airport or traveling on I-95 or going to doctors. Just about all surgeries occur before dawn. I had a hysterectomy once at 6 AM. That was just mean! I might even have more religion if it weren’t for the timing. I was married at 1 PM and am still largely unaware if I repeated my vows.
I am going to get more organized. January 2nd was designated as “Clean The Attic Day”. Now let me offer a bit of advice. If your marriage is already unstable to begin with, forget the attic. Every time we try to attempt this, we’ve been written up in the Ladies’ Home Journal, “Can This Marriage Be Saved?” Gene starts by stating that you can’t be illogical or sentimental about this stuff. Well, that’s pretty pompous coming from a man who still has his Jack Armstrong signet ring, a book of shoe stamps from the Vietnam War, and his first bow wow. He continues…“If we can’t wear it, frame it, sell it, or hang it on the Christmas tree, out it goes!” At the end of two hours we haul four pitiful items to the curb; a broken VHS, an empty varnish can, one tire chain, and a Rob Lowe pornographic calendar.
What’s this? “That’s our summer cabin inventory.” “What summer cabin?” The one we’re going to buy someday. So far we have a studio couch, a lamp with a bowling pin base, six Jennifer Lopez cereal bowls, two Venetian blinds, and a chair with a rope seat.
“And all this trash?” That belongs to you. Consecutive license plates from 1947, old fertilizer bags, a rusted sickle, a picture of the NY Giants, the medical dictionary wrapped in a plain brown wrapper, eighteen empty antifreeze cans and a bait box trying to tell us something.