I attribute my grumpiness to stress. I’ve mentioned the recent uncharacteristic behavior on my part, particularly the profanity aimed at the idiotic drivers out there. Well, sometimes people ask for it.
I was all set to jump into another task at the day job when my boss called me and told me to head home and get an early start on the long weekend. I packed up my things and headed to the parking garage. Now, where I work, the lowest level of the parking garage is for mall and office building employees only and is clearly marked such. So there I am, walking to my car, when this fellow emerges from a car next to me and says, “It’s okay to park here, right?”
I started at him for a moment in wonder. I blinked. And then a little voice in my head said, “It’s a holiday weekend, give the fella a break.”
“No,” I said, “this entire level is for employee parking only.”
“But it’s okay to park here, right,” he said, emphasizing “here” as if that spot had some particular special significance.
Continue reading In the category of RTFM (a grumpy Jamie post)
The Little Man and Kelly let me sleep in this morning and didn’t come waking me up until 8:30am! That was a pleasant little Father’s Day present. Due to the fact that the Little Man’s birthday falls just before Father’s Day, this turns out to be my third Father’s Day, as opposed to my second.
It seems appropriate to give a shout-out to my old man on Father’s Day. He’s up at the condo in Issaquah this weekend, having driven their extra car up from Southern California last week so that they have a car there when they visit Doug and Rachel’s kids. Here is a picture of my Dad before he was a Dad:
He’s not just skipping along there to the sound of music. He’s attempting a hook-shot, but whether or not the ball went into the basket, well, only he can say. Here he is a few years later with me, when I was about the same age that the Little Man is today:
Through a quirk of memory, I recall the day that picture was taken distinctly. It was in the backyard of our house in Somerset, New Jersey, and a time portal had opened up about halfway between where we were standing and the house. My dad is posed, pointing to the time portal and what we saw within, saying, “See, one father’s day in the distant future, you will be blogging about this day.”
Please forgive the outfit I was wearing, to say nothing of my Dad’s mustache. I plead the seventies.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
And happy Father’s Day Doug, Jason A., Jason S., John, and all of the other dads soaking it in today.