Sunday, September 9, 2018

Entry 435: Ain't No Cure for the Sunday Night Blues

The Sunday Night Blues are in full effect tonight.  You know that feeling of ennui mixed with sadness you get as a kid on Sunday night because you have to go back to school?  Well, I get that as an adult too.  It was really bad in grad school, because, like Susanna Hoffs, Sunday was my fun day.  It was the only day of the week I took a prolonged break from my research, and I would go to my local water hole and watch football with my friends all day.  When I returned home, I was still two-thirds drunk and crashing hard from my high of Miller Lite and Buffalo wings, and that's when the blues would creep up with a vengeance.  After getting married the feeling wasn't as intense, and since having kids I don't notice it as much (Who has a time to wallow in languor with kids?), but it still returns from time to time.



Today the conditions were perfect for a unwanted visit -- specifically, the weather.  Just like Scott Weiland, I think so much depends on the weather, and it has been brutal this weekend -- a relentless downpour.  It came at the worse possible time too because as I mentioned in my last post, I have Lil' S2 by myself right now, and not being able to go outside makes things so much more difficult.  Yesterday morning, we went to the park, even though it was very soggy, because it was the only two-hour block in which rain wasn't in the forecast.  As it turns out, we didn't even get that.  We got caught in a cloudburst and had to hurry home.  Only for some reason Lil' S2 refused to ride in the stroller, so we couldn't even hurry.  We meandered home in the driving rain, while Lil' S2 threw periodic tantrums because he didn't want to walk but also wouldn't get in the stroller.  We took about a half-hour to travel a route I could finish in literally three minutes if Lil' S2 would've just let me push him in the stroller.  We were both as drenched as you could possibly be.


Today I didn't even bother to try to leave the house.  It was raining so hard all day, we would have gotten soaked just going to the car.  And I didn't know what to do anyway.  A museum would require street parking (no thanks), and I'm not sure Lil' S2 would go for one of those indoor play areas by himself.  I could envision us going there and him not really being into it, and not interacting with the other kids, and just hanging on my pant legs.  So, we just stayed home.  I tried to make the best of it, but there is only so much you can do, especially when you have a kid who wants to be entertained all the time.  He's usually not like that -- he's the more independent one of the two -- but with S being gone, he's been super clingy, and I mainly indulge it because I know he misses his mom.  So, basically our day consisted of hide-and-seek for 15 minutes, ride scooters on our the deck for 15 minutes, read a story for 15 minutes, watch iPad for 15 minutes, lather, rinse, repeat.

Also, I was constantly checking scores of games on my phone, which is a terrible habit, and such a colossal waste of time.  I can't help it though.  I managed to curb my social media use drastically.  I never check Twitter anymore, and I only lurk on Facebook (I haven't posted in a long time) for maybe five minutes a day.  But I can't shake the compulsion to constantly look at sports scores on my phone.  I am in a super tight fantasy baseball match, which is my excuse today, but there is always something for which I can make an excuse.  At some point I just need to put down my phone and not pick it up.  I somehow managed to make it through the first 35 years of my life as an avid sports fan without having to check my phone every 30 seconds.  It's just so depressing to look at the clock, realize I've been awake for six hours and the only thing I've "accomplished" is following my fantasy teams.  Now, to be fair to myself, it is hard to focus on anything of substance when your primary task is watching your kid(s), but still I could be doing something else.  Taking up crochet would be time better spent than what I do now.


Speaking of sports and time, this website is pretty fun if you're a baseball fan.  It tells you who the first younger player than you in MLB was, and who the last player older than you was.  The first player younger than me was a pretty good third baseman for the Pirates and Cubs name Amaris Ramirez.  The last player older than me is to be determined, because it hasn't happened yet, but it will likely be ex-Mariner closer Fernando Rodney who's got me a by a few months, and is still pitching pretty well.  (The only other option is Bartolo Colon who's 45 and kinda sucky.)  In the NFL, there's a decent chance it will be none other than the ageless wonder Tom Brady, who was born in the same month, in the same year as I was, a few weeks before me.  I feel like we're basically best friends because of this.  Actually, I'm not sure Brady would be such a great hang.  He had a MAGA hat in his locker and called Trump a friend, and he's also into some weird fitness shit -- the sports equivalent of Gwyneth Paltrow's GOOP garbage -- so I'm not sure we would get along.  Although probably we would, I get along with almost everybody.  But given the opportunity, I think I would rather kick it with Aaron Rodgers.  He seems cooler. 

Anyway, I think that's enough of that.  Until next time...

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