The great thing about being a family man is that it doesn’t come all at once. No, it’s a long slow gradual descent into chaos, noise and involuntary selflessness.
At first you begin realizing while getting more serious dating your future wife that you’re not watching as much sports. Those summer nights of catching 2-3 innings of Reds games begin to disappear. Soon thereafter you’re engaged and you start thinking possibly your fiancée may not be quite as chill and laidback as she had represented early on in the relationship.
In what seems like an instant, you find yourself in the suburbs with multiple children, one louder than the other. Hysteria a daily if not hourly ritual. You begin to realize “Old School” isn’t really a comedy at all. You understand every single part of Clark Griswold’s personality.
You sure do miss your friends but if given the opportunity for a free few days you’d prefer a weekend not with them but alone in silence doing nothing and talking to nobody.
One groggy Sunday morning, due to lack of sleep rather than hangover, you find yourself cleaning pounds of Easter basket grass that your daughter dumped all over your basement after being gifted by a well-meaning neighbor. You start thinking about how great it would be if your F’ing HOF basketball coach could navigate an easy path to another week of games so you could look forward to that. You think about how nice that would F’ing be. Then you quickly relive the fever dream that was losing to Oakland in completely unsurprising fashion. You frown and continue gathering little confetti like pieces of paper.
Almost time to corral the family for a trip to Trader Joe’s. Maybe they’ll have some cool coffee options, you hope.
