TASK #9: WHAT I CARRY…
“When I hear somebody say ‘Life is hard’, I am always tempted to ask ‘Compared to what?'”Sidney J. Harris
Every work day I drag my sorry ass out of bed, look at the sky and try to guess what time it is, but I already know–it’s 6:30am, because that’s the time I get up every morning to go to work. I shower, but I don’t shave; I put on deodorant, but not cologne. If I drank too much the night before I take some aspirin–generic stuff I buy at the CVS.
What am I carrying with me? I mean, what do I drag back and forth with me?
|
If my wife looks at me funny, as in: are you taking aspirin because you have a hangover? I say no–I say I saw some doctor on tv and he said that a grown man should take an aspirin every morning to stave off a heart attack. My wife will snort, ’cause she knows EXACTLY why I’m taking the aspirin but–as wive’s tend to do–she had to ask anyway.
I generally don’t eat anything in the morning. I used to like Cap’n Crunch but it got expensive, so I gave up on breakfast. I make a lunch, put it in this lunchbox I inherited from my youngest son–it has slots for these ice packs that you put in the freezer overnight, which is clever, then I put on a shirt, lace up the shoes and head out the door.
I do this everyday. I don’t think about it much. But the other day, standing in a bus aisle between a heavyset young woman holding the hand of a little boy–only she wasn’t really holding his hand, she was gripping his wrist so that he wouldn’t dare try to bolt; and on the other side of me was a man holding–I shit you not–a ukulele. Why? I didn’t ask him.
Finally I sat down. As I said, normally I’m not ruminating much, but the guy with the ukulele got me thinking. What am I carrying with me? I mean, what do I drag back and forth with me? Here’s what I had: in my right front pocket I had my keys. There’s a key for the front door, a key for my car, which is an old-ass Prius, a key to my wine cellar–just kidding, no wine celler, but there was another key and I did’t know what the hell it went to. I keep it because I know if I throw it away, within 15 minutes I will need it.
In my other front pocket I have my phone. It’s an old iPhone, and it doesn’t get used much, and it’s sat there so long, and I wear the same pair of pants so often that there is a worn out shape of the phone on the front of my pants.
In my back pocket is my wallet. In the part where you put your currency, I had two one dollar bills and a receipt from Jack in The Box. I had a fish sandwich meal. I got curly fries and an ice tea with it, and I remembered that I was supposed to throw away the receipt because I didn’t want my wife to find it and give me shit for A) not eating my sack lunch, and B) not getting her something, because she likes the monster tacos. If I didn’t occasionally sneak a fast food lunch I would probably flip the fuck out someday, because man isn’t meant to eat out of a previously-owned teenager’s lunch bag, even if it does have ice packs. In the smaller compartments I had pictures of the kids. In one of them my youngest son was wearing a soccer uniform, though he quit soccer, which depressed me…
This week your task is to inventory your tote-ables, gentlemen. Then think about what that means.
|
I unzipped the lunchbox. Inside was a ham sandwich, made with wheat bread, which is supposed to be healthier than white bread but this loaf came from the 99 cent store so I doubt that it was packin’ too many nutrients; an apple, a diet coke, and crunch bar for a snack, and a bag of Fritos. Fritos, by the way, may be the saltiest food in the world. After one bag–and it’s not a big bag–I’m as thirsty as if I had just run a marathon–in the Mohave
desert.
And that’s it. That’s what I am toting. If I got hit by a bus and died, they could put everything in a small plastic bag–they’d throw out the lunch–and give the rest to my wife, who would pocket the dollar bills, glare at the Jack in the Box receipt, take the pictures, and try to figure out what the extra key was for…then she would toss the wallet.
TASK
- Inventory your tote-ables, gentlemen. Then think about what that means.
Photos: James Loesch and Closer to Home Circular Walks