Degradation

I am so meant to be married. Or at least a dad.

I'm not referring to romantic bliss, though. I'm referring to the fact that no matter what I do, each and every day there is someone there, whether she be in her thirties or seven. So degenerating into a slovenly mound of flesh isn't normally an option.

It was this weekend.

Started off the weekend by running to Best Buy and loading up on computer upgrades, and a new version of a video game that I used to play years ago. It's a beautiful weekend, why not spend it clicking on armies and laying waste to pixellated battlefields? Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Next was off to the Class Six to get a bottle of a favorite beverage. I try to not go any bigger than lite beer when the fam's around since we generally go out for errands no less than 75 times a weekend. With plans of working on the Harley, the yard, and the computer dancing through my head, I let the week of singularity commence.

Saturday was a wash. The computer upgrades took about a half an hour. Unfortunately, and I should know better, I popped the strategy game in at around 1300 just to make sure it worked.

Woops.

Intermingled with glasses of spirits my ass never got up out of that chair. I even ordered my pizza from my cell phone since I was too lazy (or engrossed) to get up and use the real phone. This lasted until the wee wee hours of the morning.

Sunday wasn't much better. I did manage to clean the house a little bit, but the image in the mirror was a little worse for wear.

By Monday I had degraded into an easy stand-in for a homeless guy on the street. When it took 30 seconds for me to feel the water in the shower this morning due to the built-up skin cells I knew I had overdone it a tad. I did come close to conquering the entire mediterranean theater though.

I wasn't like this before I got married. I would have taken a weekend like this and not seen the inside of the house. I wonder what/when all that changed.

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