Back in 2015, when I first devoted my life to becoming a house husband, I had to overcome my fear of laundry. I had done laundry on many occasions in the past, of course, but that was bachelor laundry, made up of easy-peasy cottons, wools, and polyesters. Stuff that’s simple to clean, dry, fold, and put away.
Circumstances had changed: I would now have to clean Ellen’s clothes. Continue reading
The last time I wrote, I announced I was taking a summer vacation from the blog.
It is now February.
I blame the delay on global warming.
Oh, that’s not true. I blame myself.
My schedule has been considerably busier than usual. And during the rare moments when I found time to write a post, I decided against doing so because I knew I was still too busy to write regular posts. I didn’t want to be one of those bloggers who posts once every few months to acknowledge he’s still breathing. Instead, I opted to be a blogger who doesn’t blog at all.
But that has changed. I am back to posting weekly. I am a new man. Continue reading
Because my biological clock hates me, I am often the first person to wake up in my house. I’ve grudgingly come to accept this, but this acceptance doesn’t make me any more pleasant to be around.
This past Saturday, my son, Alex, found me at the breakfast table a quarter of the way through an Atlantic cover story, one third of the way through my first waffle, and halfway through my third cup of coffee.
“Waffles! I think I’ll have that, too,” he announced.
He then paused to see if his declaration would spur me to act – and it did. My actions were a long, slurpy pull on my coffee and a facial expression that could be interpreted to mean, “Get yer own damn waffles.” Continue reading
This repost from 2012 is an oldie but a goodie. It also serves as a nice companion piece to my recent post on writer’s block.
What, no book? Then scram!