i challenge any average working dude out there to drop two paychecks on a new fence, buy the materials to paint it, have your paint gun break down on you, watch helplessly as an unexpected rain rolls in, see the project through with the very few moments you have to yourself... and see if you dont understand your dad just a little bit more. the revelation is remarkable.
if your pops is anything like mine, he was the type of dude that would eat the leftovers of the leftovers in the fridge despite the discoloration and pungency. and if you did go out to eat, you could pull some ms. cleo shit and predict what he was gonna order every single time. you could just look for the cheapest item on the menu and be like "you gonna get the fish tacos dad?", and he'd be like "how'd you know?" mad psychic skills. though, occasionally you could catch that twinkle in his eye that revealed he was about splurge, and in that case you look for the second cheapest item. this is the dude that would wear the shit out of your school issued P.E. shirt years after you graduated high school. he could shower in the time that it takes most people to just let the water warm up. he'd curse the $900 quote from the mechanic and fix his debatably "classic" BMW in the driveway with parts from the junkyard. this process would entail him letting you "help" him, which basically meant you would hold the flashlight until you felt like your arm was gonna fall off at the shoulder. he always had a goal and he always met it, but you could never quite grasp his logic for the means of getting to it.
then at some point in time, you land yourself a decent job with solid paycheck, cop a new ride, get yourself a cool little place to call home, find a girl worth keeping, and life is swell. you are living large. life is grand, and you found a way to obtain all these things without having to wear kirkland jeans or arguing with a clerk about a coupon expiration date.
then one day, the faucet leaks. no sweat, you can either run down to home depot and pick up a couple parts or, if the problem is too big, you got enough stashed away to hire someone to repair it. you got this. over time the little house and car repairs pop up and eat away a little cash but youre still living comfortably. then BOOM, you wake up, the fence is only halfway done, you still got a gopher in your yard, your patio roof has a hole in it, the whip is due for an oil change, all the bills are due (except the least costly one just to fuck with your mental), you're hungover, you got deadlines to meet for work projects, that hidden muscle under your scapula is crazy sore, you forgot that it was trash day, and a jehova witness just rang your doorbell...
pops makes a little more sense now. all that shit he did, all his idiosyncrasies, seem a little bit more reasonable. nuking that sad ass looking bowl of spaghetti doesn't seem like such a bad a idea if its gonna save a few minutes and gets you back to working around the pad sooner. the price difference between the steak and the chicken is tabulated in your mind in ounces of paint instead of taste. you're wondering if you got any of them P.E. shirts lying around because your gym/painting/just-gonna-go-to-the-store-real-quick shirt looks like a pack of wolves got to it and you sure as fuck ain't trying to mess up one your nice joints.
shit. pops is a fuckin' genius yo....
dude wasnt cheap. he was an investor with selective spending. he wasnt a slob. he had impeccable time management skills. it wasnt so much that he was disconnected from the world around him, but more so that he was perfectly in tune with his own. today he lives in a dope pad which is pretty much paid for, owns toys for days, surfs as often as a coastal college student, and is just cruising his way to retirement, looking for shit to buy for fun on craigslist. he gritted his teeth early to reap the bennies later. normally the adage, "shit, im becoming dad!" has some negative connotation to it, but i caught myself saying it recently... and you know what? its all good.
No comments:
Post a Comment