Another year, another Father’s Day, another “I hate Father’s Day” post. I get it, this is me, being me. I understand I am a decent father. I also understand that all freaking Hallmark does is remind me that my kids can’t wish me a Happy Father’s Day. And others doing it does the same thing. Mom will call and wish me a happy Father’s Day, all the tougher since Dad passed. I get “well meaning” and appreciate the words to some degree and all, but … well … maybe I will stay under the covers all day.
This came home Friday:
You really think she had anything to do with making this? What do I do with it? Ugh.
And speaking of staying under the covers tomorrow, we are not driving anywhere. Want to know why? …
How many times do I start a post or story with “I am sitting there minding my own business …”
Well, I was sitting in my office, minding my own business, and my cell phone rings with a number I don’t know. I do not recognize the voice, a strong foreign accent.
“Single Dad, your car was hit, you need to come downstairs.”
Turns out it was a guy who works at the pizza place across the street. How he had my cell number, I have no clue.
Why I am not driving anywhere tomorrow? Ask the driver of the Coca Cola truck who totaled my car. (Still have Pearlsky’s van, we will see a favorite other dad of ours) (no one hurt, it was parked)
So, my dear friends, NO COKE, PEPSI! (You really need to watch this, even if you’re old like me and remember it live)
Definitely time for that RV …