I don’t usually waste space with boring stories from the homefront, but I have BIG news to report. After eight months living with us since graduating college, and after managing only six interviews in his first six months of alleged “efforting” to find a job, my wife’s son has FINALLY landed a job that will be making use of his Interior Architecture college degree.
Proving that, against all odds, you actually CAN play Empire Builder and other equally pointless computer games 16 hours/day, and still eventually find a real job. Makes me a bit skeptical about the company he is going to work for, but the important fact is the job is three hours away from my house, and he is now their problem, not mine. HALLEFREAKIN’LUJAH!!
Yes, as stepdad, I did help raise this kid, but I offer the defense that the outcome is the result of my suggestions always being outvoted 3-1 by mommy, daddy, and stepmom, not a result of anything ever being done my way in the kid-raising process.
When someone moves away after what seems an eternity, there are so many somber ways of marking the ending. “Parting is such sweet sorrow” is the way some pretentious blowhard put it. I mean, if there’s sorrow, why part? Makes no sense.
At the other extreme there is “Another one bites the dust,”which, while harsh, at least makes sense.
And then there is the timeless “Don’t let the screen door hit you on the way out,” which is particularly apt in this case, because our front screen door is more than 100 years old, measures something like 42x80 inches, and probably weighs 75 pounds. Let that one hit you and it’s gonna hurt, as they say around here.
I like that last one. I also like some other, much more harsh versions, but I will settle for: Thank you for wasting eight months of my life reminding me how kids should be raised, instead of the way you were raised. And keep an eye over your shoulder for the day your now eight-year-old half-brother hunts you down to pay you back for the upbringing his dad made him endure because you showed his dad what happens when kids are enabled by their parents to do only what they want to do, instead of being taught what they need to do.
Welcome to the real world. Watch out for that door on the way out.…
| Copyright © 2022 by Anonymous, Moristotle |
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