The Venting

venting.jpg It has been a quiet couple of weeks here at the Q-Blog. And for that I apologize. I’ve been under the weather and supremely distracted for a number of reasons. And what you’ll discover by reading the following paragraphs are but a few of the reasons why I’ve not found the time to put fingers to keyboard for so long.

To be honest, dear reader, this is less content created for your consumption than it is a stool for me to stand on and unleash frustrations and vent my displeasure into the wind. And now, I unfurl this litany of threats and complaints before you.

Out, damned cold!

Firstly, I’d like to address the cold that arrived on 9/2 or 9/3 and is still coating my lungs with a slathering of the gelatinous green.

Cold: You are unwelcome here! It has been too long, and you now must go back to that whence you came!

Body: Sore throat to incredible fatigue. Stoppered nose to runny nose. Then watering eyes and wet sneezes. Then on to rattling chest and embarrassingly effective expectoration. And you’re still not over it yet?? I’ve had enough of this now.

Then, the back

(Still addressing the body)

I’d like to know when you put trimming branches on the list of forbidden activities. You are well aware of the fact that I stay away from just about anything on that list.

So you can imagine my surprise when the excruciating pain in my back surfaced while clipping the slimmest of sticks. I’d like to posit that this punishment, the amount of pain and lost time I’ve suffered through in these past two weeks far outweigh the crime.

You’ve made your point. I get it. I’m not sleeping enough. I’m forgetting to eat my 5th serving of fruits and veg. I’m not getting the daily exercise that I used to a few months ago, but come on! I’m doing the best I can! I could make it worse you realize. Think on that. Punk.

On to the children

Let me be the first to express my thanks for your efforts in being very sweet and cute children and for sleeping for long stretches of time at night. This makes me happy. I don’t know if you understand how much it concerned me prior to your arrival, the prospect of not getting enough sleep. But, Thessaly, your 12 hours a night? Beautiful just like you. Torbin? You’re coming along nicely. 8 or 9 hours is nothing to sneeze at. And you make it up by napping very well during the day.

But aren’t quite…right, yet. And as your father, your father who’s not quite himself with only 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night, I would very much appreciate it if you could…I don’t know… coordinate your long stretches of sleep a little better. And this is mostly directed to you, Torbin, because Thessaly’s been doing the 7pm bedtime for quite awhile now, and I’ve come to appreciate her hard work.

I know it’s tough being the new guy and all, but listen: soon I’m going to be the only source of nutrition that you have during the day, and it might be a good idea for you to start thinking about just how your not going to sleep until 11 or 12 at night is going to impact whether or not you get your food when and how you like it.

This isn’t a threat. Don’t take what I’m saying that way. I don’t threaten my children. That would be wrong. No, this isn’t a threat. It’s a guarantee, my young wobbly friend. You want to eat come October…you start going to sleep at 7 or 8pm.

And you’re not completely innocent either, Thessaly. I see the glint in your eye when I’m giving Torbin the bottle. I see that glint when you’re slipping behind the TV stand to monkey with the wires and cables back there. I see that special sparkle in those big blue eyes, I see the defiance in that smile. Don’t think that I can’t tuck your brother under my arm like a pigskin and hurdle the ottoman like OJ. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that since I’d only have one arm free that I can’t snatch you right out of there and deposit you a good 20 feet away in a heartbeat. And don’t you dare believe that I can’t unleash a stern “No, no, please don’t go back there, little girl,” without even thinking about it.

I know you’re both still young. I know you don’t understand the ramifications of your behavior. But you will.

You will.

And finally, the refrigerator

Now you listen to me, you shiny metal prick: You’re only one year old! There’s absolutely NO. GODDAMN. REASON. for you to be going on the fritz already. I don’t care if you were a member of a discounted lot. I don’t care if you were the only unit to come out of that last traumatic delivery without massive denting and scarring. I don’t care if you’re the cheapest model with a freezer on the bottom and water dispenser on the door.

Look at me when I’m talking to you, LG fridge! Your primary job is to keep my food cold. And you’re not even able to do that one simple thing. I’m going to say it again: You’re only 1 year old! This is unacceptable!

Do you have any idea how screwed we’d be right now if I hadn’t succumbed to the pressures of your salesman and bought the extended warranty? Do you have any idea???

We’ve got a repair man coming out on Wednesday to take a look at you, punk. That’s right. So you’ll have had a full seven days by then to either straighten up and get yourself back on track…or to completely spoil everything in your wretched innards.

Yeah, I said seven days. What’s it to you? I’m sure that Warner’s Stellian have a perfectly rational explanation why they’d make us wait a frickin’ week to get someone out to look at a fridge. And I’m 100% confident that it won’t take another week for parts to be ordered and to arrive. But even in the remote and unlikely event that it’ll take 10 to 14 days to get that technician to show up again, I’m looking forward to having him show up and cram those new parts so far up your compressor that you’ll be shivering cold for a good 10 years after that.

I’ll see you in hell, you stainless steel son of a bitch.