my umbrella just melted
I hobbled out of work this morning at 7am after my shift, pounded open the hospital doors and recoiled from the 100-degree lung searing oxygen I inhaled. How sick is that 100 degrees at seven in the morning. People think arizona (yes, small ‘a’) is a place where it may be hot for a time but, ultimately, is a nice place to live. Uh hum, where else in the states can you wake up and cook your breakfast not on your stove, but on the sidewalk outside your desert bungalow. The presumption that Arizona is anything but a vile and wretched soul-vacuum grossly underestimates its ability to encompass all that is evil and unpleasant. I keep attempting to tip the pessimism in favor of a sip of the latter with thoughts of escaping this place, or re-focusing on daily tasks that might distract my attention from my own geographically induced mental breakdown but, ultimately fail and return to my banter.
On a rosier note, I continue to look forward to fatherhood turning a blind eye from the all night crying and diaper changing theatrics surely to follow. I will pretend for the time being that those things where fabricated by some pretentious desire to portray fatherhood as difficult. Of course raising a son is hard, but could it really be THAT hard
(Yes, my intention is to set myself up for utter failure as I come to terms with the level of focus and dedication actually required to be called a good father.wish me luck filled with sarcasm and ironic vilification)
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