Tag: humor

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A Comedy of Errors: My Morning Adventure in Forgetfulness

Written February 25, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning was a disaster of my own making—an entirely avoidable one, at that. It all started with a simple yet catastrophic decision: going back to sleep.

My wife had to leave early for work, so I woke up with her, saw her off, and then—because I am, at times, my own worst enemy—I crawled back into bed. When my alarm rang at its usual time, I reasoned that there was no immediate need to rise and shine. Why rush? The world could wait. I could bask in the warmth of my blankets for just a little while longer.

Ah, but then—the horror! Like a bolt of lightning, it struck me. I had an appointment at the phlebotomy lab. This morning. In a moment, I went from blissful comfort to full-blown panic mode.

Suddenly, I was a man on a mission. Breakfast was a frantic affair—more a feeding frenzy than a meal. I barely finished swallowing before summoning an Uber to whisk me across town. Somehow, by sheer force of will (and the generosity of traffic lights), I arrived roughly on time. My reward? A needle in my arm and the satisfaction of knowing I had narrowly avoided disaster.

The Saga of the Quarterly Lab Visit

This whole lab ordeal isn’t a weekly thing, thank goodness. It happens once every three months—a fun little prelude to my nephrologist appointments. The lab used to be conveniently located within walking distance, but those were the good old days. Now, thanks to the ever-evolving world of healthcare logistics, both my doctor’s office and the lab have migrated to opposite ends of the city. Since my wife was at work, Uber was my chariot of choice.

A Kidney’s Hard-Won Victory

Once upon a time, my kidneys were in such dire shape that a transplant was on the horizon—stage five of kidney disease, the final boss level. But through some miracle of discipline (and possibly sheer stubbornness), I clawed my way back to stage three. Even my doctors were impressed. Kidneys don’t just bounce back like that. It’s been an uphill battle—strict diet, exercise, a truckload of medication—but I intend to keep it that way. If my kidneys have fought this hard, the least I can do is not sabotage them.

The Curious Case of the Urgency-Driven Wife

Speaking of discipline, my wife operates on a completely different level. She thrives on urgency. More time? Not helpful. More deadlines? That’s where she shines. She has goals stacked like dominos—lifelong ones, yearly ones, monthly ones, and even daily ones. Meanwhile, I apparently struggle with remembering a single appointment that’s been on my calendar for months.

A Morning Lost in Translation

In my defense, I used to have a built-in scheduling assistant—my wife. For years, she managed my appointments with an efficiency that I now recognize I took for granted. But since 2017, I’ve been the proud (if slightly forgetful) owner of my own calendar. And today, that system failed spectacularly. I’m fairly certain I ignored every phone alarm. Maybe I was half-asleep. Maybe I was just being me.

The Aftermath of Chaos

Once I got back home—blood drawn, dignity slightly bruised—I tried to restore order to my day. I worked out, did my language practice, and checked off my morning to-do list. By some miracle, I still had time before dinner prep to catch my breath and, of course, write about my self-inflicted chaos. What is the moral of the story? Maybe don’t ignore your alarms. Or better yet, don’t trust a half-asleep brain to make scheduling decisions. It does not have your best interests at heart.

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A Birthday, A Housewarming, and a Dash of Chaos

Written February 22, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Today is a bit of a whirlwind—but in the best way possible. First off, it’s my sister’s birthday, which is reason enough to celebrate. Even better, we’re heading over to her brand-new house, a place she and her family just bought. However, there’s a slight plot twist: her household has been on a merry-go-round of sickness for weeks. What is the official party status? Still a little up in the air.

She hadn’t confirmed anything earlier, but I assumed the celebration was still happening. Turns out, I guessed right—she texted this morning that we’re good to go. That means I get to see her, which is great news, and my wife—who adores our niece—is downright thrilled. She’s been working on my sister’s birthday gifts for months. Usually, she buys them early and lets them sit around like museum exhibits, waiting for their grand unveiling. This time, though, she’s been swamped with year-end work, so guess who got the honor of wrapping everything? That’s right—me. And if I do say so myself, those gifts are wrapped with precision, if not perfection.

Of course, with all the festivities, my well-laid weekend plans had to shuffle around. Running? Rescheduled. Vacuuming? Pushed to tomorrow—without a hint of regret. My wife, ever the planner, had already mapped out next week’s meals, and rather than making a separate trip, she cleverly added her bag to the grocery list. That way, we can swing by Kroger on the way home and check that errand off without a fuss. Efficiency at its finest.

One small concern: my wife pointed out that lingering too long at my sister’s might not be the best idea, given their recent bout of illness. Fair point. Usually, my brother-in-law takes charge of the kitchen—he’s a fantastic cook and loves whipping up meals for any and all occasions. But this time, they’re playing it safe with Chinese takeout. As for dessert? That’s covered. I baked a cake yesterday, and it’s ready to steal the show.

Now, let’s talk about my wife’s relationship with time—she fills every minute of the day like it’s a carry-on bag that absolutely must fit in the overhead compartment. Even on a day like this, her schedule is packed. She’s up at an ungodly hour, claiming it makes her more productive. And honestly? It works. The woman does not stop—unless she’s ill (which is rare because she’s extra careful about germs, mostly for my sake). I, on the other hand, take a more… measured approach. I know exactly what I need to get done this weekend, and I’m confident it’ll all be wrapped up smoothly.

For now, though, the to-do list can wait. We’re off to celebrate, see the new house, and enjoy some cake. Priorities, right?

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Weather Betrayal and the Art of Finding Joy Anyway

Written February 5, 2025

Hello, dear readers!

Monday’s run was glorious. The kind of day that tricks you into believing winter is finally packing its bags and heading for the hills. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and for a fleeting moment, I thought, Maybe—just maybe—spring has arrived.

Ha.

The universe must have heard my foolish optimism and decided to intervene immediately. By Tuesday, the temperature had plummeted 15 degrees. Today? Another 10. At this point, I half-expect to wake up tomorrow and find a fresh layer of snow just to complete winter’s petty revenge arc.

It’s still not as bitterly cold as last week, but somehow, that one warm day spoiled me. I had already started fantasizing about running in short sleeves again, and now I’m back to layering up like an Arctic explorer. Funny how a single glimpse of spring makes returning to winter feel even worse than before.

Adding to the tease, the warm spell coaxed some early greenery out of hiding. My wife, ever the keen observer, stood by the window, enjoying the sight of those fresh little sprouts. And then, as if winter took offense at our moment of joy, the cold came roaring back. Typical Midwest. Having lived here, I should’ve known better. Midwest weather doesn’t transition—it mood-swings.

But what’s the point of complaining? It won’t change a thing. Might as well put my feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and mild outrage into a neat little box labeled Things I Cannot Control. It’s a pretty full box at this point.

At least my walk to the doctor’s office yesterday was pleasant. The temperature was still hanging on to some remnants of warmth, and I even managed to enjoy the stroll. The appointment went smoothly—always a plus—and, as promised, I rewarded my responsible adulting with a cupcake on the way home.

Now, let’s talk about that cupcake. Was my favorite flavor available? No. Was I momentarily devastated? A little. But I soldiered on, selected another, and—no surprises here—it was delicious. Honestly, I don’t think this bakery is even capable of making a bad cupcake. Some places just have that magic touch.

Of course, my wife, being the mysterious and perplexing individual she is, remains indifferent to cupcakes. I do not understand this. How does one simply not care about cupcakes? This is one of life’s great mysteries, alongside Why does toast always land butter-side down? and Why do socks vanish in the laundry? But alas, she was unmoved by my confectionary enthusiasm, so I had to enjoy my sweet reward solo. Her loss.

Let the temperatures play their cruel little games. I refuse to let them dictate my mood. If winter wants to be temperamental, fine—I’ll just keep finding my own ways to enjoy the day.

And if that happens to involve another cupcake next week? Well, who am I to argue with fate?

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Goodbye Leaves, Hello New Year: A Cozy Countdown to 2025

Written December 31, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

It seems like our front yard tree had a wardrobe malfunction—it shed almost all its autumn attire during the windy weather this past week. Now, the yard looks like it’s hosting a fall leaf convention, and I’ve been playing the reluctant clean-up crew. My strategy has been to tackle the mess in short bursts whenever I can squeeze in the time. Today, I managed a good round of leaf collection and made noticeable progress. However, the leaves were a bit damp, thanks to rain earlier in the week, which made the process more of a wrestling match than a quick rake-and-dump. Despite my best efforts, there’s still a good chunk of the yard that needs attention. Looks like Thursday is going to be round two in the Great Leaf Battle.

The weather has been acting downright strange lately. Late December has felt more like an extended autumn—almost as if Demeter momentarily forgot to mourn for Persephone. My wife, ever the opportunist when it comes to cardio, has been taking full advantage of the unseasonal warmth. She’s been out there pounding the pavement, determined to make the most of these rare, mild days before 2025 inevitably brings the frost. Rest days? Not in her vocabulary. I’m pretty sure she considers them some kind of mythical creature—like unicorns or guilt-free dessert.

When we first met, I used to worry about her nonstop energy. Would she burn out? Would she ever just… relax? But over the years, I’ve realized that being busy is her happy place. Whether she’s running, planning, or tackling a new project, she thrives on momentum. Watching her in action is like watching a perfectly balanced storm—it’s chaos, but it works.

Meanwhile, today is New Year’s Eve, and things at our house have been a flurry of activity. My wife has been knee-deep in business prep, so I’ve taken on the role of house manager, running around to get everything in order. Between tidying up and ticking off the to-do list, I’ve been keeping the domestic ship afloat.

Even with all the busyness, we always make time to chat. Our conversations are mostly about books, ideas, and the occasional “what if” scenario. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things about our relationship. We’re both a little nerdy and endlessly curious, so we never run out of things to talk about. Whether it’s debating the symbolism in a classic novel or brainstorming the next big idea, our conversations are as energizing as they are entertaining.

Tonight, though, we’re hitting pause on all the hustle to celebrate New Year’s Eve. Our plan? A cozy night with Irish coffee—a tradition we’ve lovingly adopted—and maybe, if I can convince her, a game night. I got a new board game for Christmas that I’m dying to try, but I should probably read the rules first. No one wants to start the new year by looking like they don’t know how to play their own game.

Here’s to a fun-filled evening and an even better 2025!