It had been one of those largely unplanned kinds of days here yesterday, the sort where you go into it with only one event to tend to at a specified time, and the rest of the day is kind of a mixed bag of time-sinks and whatever the kiddo wants to do that won’t cause property or brain damage. It began as most days do on weekends for us, with me awakening to the fuzzy sound of Dani informing me that Avery is up, and coffee, sweet nectar of the gods, is on the mend. The smell of brewing Caribou coffee freshly ground is an olfactory opioid, intoxicating and a bit addictive.
I’d apologize if that offends anyone reading this who struggles with addiction issues, but someone will find it amusing besides myself, so the apology wouldn’t be entirely authentic. In the words of Bojack Horseman, suck a dick, dumb shit.
Now, most mornings, be they work days or weekends, I come close to resembling something vaguely human and less than world-hating only after I’ve had at least a cup of coffee and a cigarette, followed by a brief shower. With at least the cup of coffee and cigarette, I can pass as generally amiable and slightly less liable to bite than a Doberman that’s been force fed crack and lashed to a chair to watch Michael Vick home movies of dog fights a la ‘A Clockwork Orange’.
Yesterday morning was no different, and the day itself was actually quite wonderful. Avery and I had a ton of fun at Dani’s family’s farm, chasing chickens and picking up sticks and petting the horses and playing in the leaves. We both took some photos and some video with our phones, securing a tangible record of these good times.
We shared a couple of these images on Facebook. Thinking on that is part of what irks me today; not the sharing part, but my indulgence in using the damned phone when those moments should have been shared, on my part, in the form of prose. I don’t want to become yet another person who relies on digital proof of life; as a storyteller I should turn to the written word first.
It’s a minor grumble, and honestly, wouldn’t likely be one at all, if I didn’t fear the increasing encroachment of convenience technologies into our daily lives.
God I’m getting old.