Chapter 1: The Presence of Absence

This is the first installment in a new series that I wrote about a year ago. The series will update on Mondays.

It is not a work of fiction.

January 9th, 2017

So I’ve been having fun.

Due to a combination of national holidays and related events that she has and I don’t, Mrs. A is visiting her family for the weekend.

You know what that means… Time to get crazy.

Like Friday, when I went to see “Sausage Party”. She wouldn’t have liked that film, and it was the late show, in the city. We don’t go into the city often, the train ride there and back is just a pain in the neck, but what the hell, she was otherwise occupied, it’s me time.

And then Saturday morning work, back downtown, but after confirming that she’d still be away that evening, I went nuts.

Ordered a small pizza for myself.

And paid for it from the grocery fund!

Then I went to my local bar and discussed the possible geopolitical ramifications of the upcoming Trump presidency with the owner/bartender.

In Japanese.

We didn’t agree on everything, but who knows how much of that was a result of the language barrier or not.

Rainy day today.

I thought about doing something.

I thought about exercising, but rain.

I thought about dieting, but decided to make hamburg steak (chopped steak, whatever) with red wine/homemade bacon/mushroom gravy for dinner instead, then got drunk-ish and watched both Wayne’s World movies on cable.

Took the trash out.

She’s visiting her family because her mom’s recovery is going….

I don’t know.

She didn’t join the 2016 toll, so that’s something.

But I’ve got a black suit that I’ve yet to wear, but I think that’ll change soon, and then her dad will be spending the rest of his days partying just like I have for the last three.

The title of this post is a taken from a quote from Michael Berenbaum, former project director of the US Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *