Think Eli Manning has a headache? Let me tell you about my weekend. I had one mission last week. That was to get to Five Guys Burgers, which just opened in my area. I’ve been hearing things about these burgers. Good things. So I had to have one. When I focus on something, especially food, I make it happen.
Naturally, there was no way I was going to get there until the weekend. My job was insane this past week. Barely came up for air. Then it ended on Friday with a particularly ugly note. My boss — whom I consider a friend — ended the work week HATING me! Wants me dead. It’s going to be very unpleasant on Monday. But I’m getting off-track here.
On Saturday morning when I address my family, whom I haven’t seen nor talked to during the week, I advise them of my weekend mission. My son yells, “Woo-hoo!” My daughter says, “Cows have feelings, you know.” She’s a vegetarian. Unless she’s dating a boy who eats meat. And my wife just laughs as she tells me all the driving, fixing, mowing and making her life easier I have to do. But I am determined.
Saturday is a blur. The only think I’m sure of? I did NOT get to Five Guys and eat a burger. My son’s basketball team has three games, two hours in between each game!! Who the heck scheduled this? Satan?! And of the 120 minutes of game playing, my son tallied an impressive 112 minutes. On the bench. I am not kidding.
The last game was over at 6:00. I see an opportunity to grab a celebratory burger or three at Five Guys. But we lost all three games by a collective 47 points. No one wants to celebrate. How about a consolation dinner I propose. I get weird stares and everyone moves on. I’m about to suggest to my always hungry son we go alone, when my wife calls. Of course I don’t want to answer the phone, but she somehow knows when I screen her calls, so I dare not. I answer, and it’s not a fun call.
Our daughter is at a party where some kid took a sip of beer. We always tell her to let us know if there’s any trouble. She’s a good girl in spite of her meat guilting me. So anyway, my wife wants me to go get her and bring her home. I think of asking my wife why she can’t do it, but I did that once and those are 40 precious minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Saturday is gone to me.
Sunday? I’d tell you, but I may cry. Again. Let’s just say that Monday morning as I drive to work, I remember that my boss hates me, that I failed at my mission to get a Five Guys burger, and that I haven’t had a relaxing minute in FOREVER!! And for some reason, I find myself smiling as I sit at my desk, knowing it’s going to be a horrible day. And still I say, “Thank god it’s Monday.”
Anyone else have a weekend like mine? Let me know. We can commiserate. Though, sadly, it won’t be over a Five Guys burger!