Is confession good for the soul? Let's find out!
I have to confess something. Not to you guys. To Mrs. Wife.
On Friday night, Mrs. Wife and 8-Year Old Daughter went on a Girl Scout-sponsored overnight trip. [It was a camping/cabin thing in 10 degree weather. Most unpleasant!] Normally, I would have taken care of 3-Year Old Daughter when I got home from work but I have been battling a sinus infection all week, so 3-Year Old stayed at my mother-in-law's house.
My instructions were to go home and rest. It seemed reasonable. I got home, made some lovely soup and opened a book. Suddenly, I was overpowered by a strange force. Let's call it...I don't know...let's call it tedium. When I regained my equilibrium, I found myself driving south on the Garden State Parkway, down to Asbury Park to—you guessed it—back to the Silver Ball Museum and Pinball Hall of Fame
Lock and load
I still wasn't feeling great but being sick and playing pinball is a hell of a lot more entertaining than being sick and sitting in my blue reading chair in the living room.
My favorite machine ever
And then I had an epiphany: I came home to an empty house on a Friday night, ate dinner alone, went to a pinball arcade by myself, stood in front of a pinball machine for an hour, went home alone, watched the news, abused myself and went to sleep. That is exactly how I spent my teens! It's decades later and I've made no progress whatsoever in this life! Damn.
On Friday night, Mrs. Wife and 8-Year Old Daughter went on a Girl Scout-sponsored overnight trip. [It was a camping/cabin thing in 10 degree weather. Most unpleasant!] Normally, I would have taken care of 3-Year Old Daughter when I got home from work but I have been battling a sinus infection all week, so 3-Year Old stayed at my mother-in-law's house.
My instructions were to go home and rest. It seemed reasonable. I got home, made some lovely soup and opened a book. Suddenly, I was overpowered by a strange force. Let's call it...I don't know...let's call it tedium. When I regained my equilibrium, I found myself driving south on the Garden State Parkway, down to Asbury Park to—you guessed it—back to the Silver Ball Museum and Pinball Hall of Fame
Lock and load I still wasn't feeling great but being sick and playing pinball is a hell of a lot more entertaining than being sick and sitting in my blue reading chair in the living room.
My favorite machine ever And then I had an epiphany: I came home to an empty house on a Friday night, ate dinner alone, went to a pinball arcade by myself, stood in front of a pinball machine for an hour, went home alone, watched the news, abused myself and went to sleep. That is exactly how I spent my teens! It's decades later and I've made no progress whatsoever in this life! Damn.
posted by The Unbearable Banishment at
10:31 AM
24 Comments:
OMG! I can't believe how honest you were in this post. I'm still smiling just thinking about your evening.
Hah! This is the best post ever. I loved every word of it.
But...you have made progress since your teens! Just ask yourself, how often do you really spend your evening that way!!!
And just between us, it sounds pretty fun...
WHAT?!?!?! I'm so shocked I don't know what to say.
Well, I didn't really need that visual but I suppose that's my own fault. I guess Bukowski had friends and family members reading about his escapades.
say 10 Hail Mrs. Wife's and go to morning Mass for the next week...;)
evel knievel? it's on! that was one of my best games... bring it...
oh, but the rest of the stuff? best on your own...
Pretty impressively quick regression! Not sure if this is a confession to Mrs Wife, or a warning :·)
GOTJ: Glad you liked it. I had a smile on my face at the end of the evening, too.
Leah: I tried to make is sound like I was a big loser but to be honest, it WAS pretty fun.
Mrs. Wife: You can say this: Oh, I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself. Feel free to do it again anytime you wish.
JZ: I can't walk into a church. I'm afraid I'll burst into flames. (See last post.)
Daisy: Are you sure you want to go shooting off your mouth like that? I hope you are gracious in defeat.
PG: Mrs. Wife needs no warning. She knows what she's dealing with.
That's it, its Girl Scout camp for you next time mister. You'll be on washing up duty, too.
I wasn't believing you were only there for an hour, then I got to the part about abusing yourself - which made me laugh out loud - and I bought the whole story.
The Mrs.Wife comment is hilarious.
Hope you're feeling better.
Oh, and I believe confession is over-rated.
Yeah ... the honesty in this post is definitely amusing. I can't stop giggling. Bwahaha. Oh if only all my Monday mornings started out this way.
Yep, I've had similar epiphanies!
Sx
Jo: Wow! That's a pretty harsh punishment. Good thing YOU'RE not my Mrs. Wife!
Rob: It's all true and accurate. The arcade is $10/hour to play and I can tell you that the hour flies by. I got some antibiotics on Saturday and feel much better, thanks.
Sid: I'm glad that my empty evening and sordid past can amuse so many.
Scarlet: Epiphanies of this ilk are like watching a fog lift and not liking what's revealed.
As a germaphobe, I'm appalled that you would spread you infection to whoever played that pinball machine after you. Fortunately, it was pinball so there probably wasn't another player until long after the germs had died.
Jeff: Actually, you're right! I never thought of that! But it was a sinus infection. Is that contagious? As a germaphobe, how did you manage to live in New York City?! This place is a loaded petri dish of germs.
This post says it all - you are an wonderful writer and a regular guy, all in one! Long live the teenager in every man!
you watched the news as a teen??
i call bullshit!
Oh and isn't it interesting that you felt the urge to confess on the Sunday after you wrote about the former Pope never allowing himself a moment of joy.
Hold on to the joy, friend! :)
Aren't you glad you followed your tedious muse?
Lori: Being told that I'm a wonderful writer makes me want to send you a big bag of money. And I think you might be right about the confession. I think I'm destine for sainthood.
Jason: How come you can believe I spent years eating dinner and going out all alone but not believe that I kept abreast with the news? Cut me some slack, Jack.
Willow: As usual, my tedious muse lead me down a dark path. You'd think I'd learn to ignore that voice.
:~D on so many levels, sugar! xoxox
A little nostalgic whimsy is good for what ails ya.
:-)
Pearl
Julia Cameron would call that "an artist's date." Much better than chicken soup for the soul.
A slow clap for the confession!
Savannah: Kind of pathetic on many levels, as well.
Pearl: Despite the tone of the post, it really WAS quite enjoyable.
Bob: Why didn't I think of that!? An artist date!? You are so clever. I read that book because of you so many years ago.
Ellie: Too much info for you?
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home