I ran into my neighbor walking out of my building this morning. She asked how everything was going and I updated her on Throckmorton’s latest shit.
“I hope he isn’t keeping you up at night.” I continued.
“Well, no, he isn’t. But it does get a bit loud on occasion.”
“Oh? I’ll tell my wife to keep it down then.”
I began disentangling my earphones and stepped out of the doorway.
“No, it’s not your wife.” She said.
I turned back. “Do you mean to say it’s me?”
“Well, you are rather enthusiastic, don’t you think?”
Last night suddenly came back to me. Kikuchiyo produced a magnificent mustard colored shit around 3am and in my excitement I responded with an ebullient cry of delight. Fucking hell, I thought, I woke up the neighbors in response to a shit. I apologized and stumbled along to the station.
As the train pulled up, I caught my reflection in a window. I looked like hell. And then it struck me: I’ve gone insane.
Let’s count the ways:
1. I respond to healthy looking baby shit with enthusiasm normally saved for things like winning the lottery.
2. Any new addition to my mental to-do list lasts for no longer than 15 seconds.
3. I’ve started walking around with a tote bag.
4. When Hastrobal and I come across another baby, I call out in an inexcusably annoying baby voice, “Look, another baaabbbyyy!” Then I crane my neck around to catch a glimpse of it.
5. When handling domestic duties I refer to myself in a singsong voice as “dream husband.”
6. There is a 50/50 chance that my fly is open right now.
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Drake Studebake © 2009
3 comments:
Drake,
1) you need to drop the tote bag.
2) you crazy, son.
I had no idea before becoming a father (quite recently, I might add) just how exciting baby shit can be. The color, the texture, the amount, the frequency, and of course who's turn it is to change the little bugger have become major topics of conversation around our house as well. Just last week he made one of such magnitude I exclaimed "my god!" and had to get my wife in on the cleaning fun. And who knew how troublesome scrotums could be in this whole process? Hiding little kernels of crap beneath their textured orbs. Drake, I share your enthusiasm and applaud it and think it's you who should be telling your neighbor to shove off. Though bear in mind that I also wear a tote bag.
Too hilarious. I always do the "Look, another baaaabyyyy!" thing. It's quite sad.
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