Wednesday, September 30 2020

stinky cheese, the debate, and being sick of my birthday



banners/2020 09 30

Dear Journal,

Good morning, everyone! Happy Wednesday. After an enjoyable, debaucherous whirlwind of a birthday Tuesday, it feels good to be back on the rails, right where I'm supposed to be this morning. Though we have a little more sun in the sky today, it remains perfect hoodie weather.

Miles, behind me in his chair, is reading his favorite book. I don't even know if this book has a name, but there are about five crinkly foam pages in his favorite book, and between each page turn, Miles gets so excited he puts the book on his face and coo's.

And the coffee is fresh and delicious today, though it took a few tries to get there. This morning, I hit the brew button before realizing yesterday's coffee was still in the carafe. Moving on to my other morning chores, I was stopped in my tracks by the sound of wet dripping. The coffee ran down the sides of the carafe, under the coffee bar, down the back wall. I nearly went through a whole roll of paper towels just wiping everything down before I had to start again.

So apparently, it only takes me a day to forget how to brew coffee. I also spilled flour on the counter while feeding KRANG. I'm going to have to work at getting the hang of this whole morning routine thing.

Sip. How's your day going? What did you get up to yesterday? I seem to have already covered most of what happened yesterday, so the only stretch of time that I haven't accounted for yet is just yesterday evening. Continuing my birthday privileges, Marissa shouldered my Tuesday evening chores and put Rodney and Miles to bed. And that was a good thing. I sat at the dining room table, focusing all my attention on the Camembert cheese.

I'm still kind of a novice student of cheese. I know what I like, but I have plenty to learn. To be honest, after watching the Camembert cheese soften and change shape in the back of my fridge all week, I was hoping it would be a little stinkier. It came out more like a really mild brie. Don't get me wrong - there's nothing wrong with a mild brie, but in my head I hyped it up like it was going to be a really challenging cheese. I wanted to bite into something utterly repugnant - something that tasted like death in your mouth for at least a full 30 seconds before rewarding you with a nice after taste.

Are there any cheese fans out there? If you know of a cheese like that, please let me know. I need a cheese meant for a dairy masochist. A cheese adrenaline junkie.

After Marissa finished putting Rodney to bed, we watched a few of the highlights from last night's presidential debate. I use the word "highlights" generously, because from what we saw, it was a shit show. A fascist circus. An episode of identity politics reality TV.

But don't worry about us. We appropriately set our expectations as low as possible, and because of that our evening was saved.

"I'm so glad we didn't sit down to watch the whole thing from beginning to end," said Marissa. "I just can't find anything that was worth listening to."

"Yeah, I was already in the mindset of like, 'this is just entertainment'," I said. "I get that it's pretty much just cable news playing on people's need to see someone get owned or embarrassed. But last night wasn't even good entertainment, let alone remotely political."

And I don't know about you, but I'm starting suspect that win, lose, or draw, Trump isn't leaving. I don't think it will be the epic early January stand-off in the White house some are expecting either. It will be a petty, drawn out argument about the legitimacy and rules of mail in voting. I think he'll just take advantage of how tired we are and shrug his way back into office.

I don't mean to paint such a gloomy picture. Man, maybe the debate still bummed me out. Heading into this entry, I was proud that I kept the whole mess psychologically at an arm's distance, but writing has a way of showing you what you're really feeling, doesn't it?

Once we had our fill of the debates, Marissa and I crashed on the couch to watch some football highlights. And despite having lots of delicious alcohol, birthday junk food, and free license to keep the party going, I just stuck to water.

"You're not going to drink at all?" asked Marissa.

"Nah," I said, waving my hand. "I've been drinking and eating all day. I'm just going to sit here. I need to get back on the rails."

"It's starting, isn't it?" said Marissa, smirking.

"What is?" I asked, interested.

"You can only take like... twelve hours of a special day," she said. "You get tired of things like your birthday really quickly."

I started to laugh, my glass of water resting on my chest bouncing up and down. "That's not true," I chuckled.

"Yuh huh," said Marissa. "Remember on Christmas? Before we went bowling you said -"

Marissa adjusted in her seat to drive her point home. "You said 'Christmas is a weird day.'"

We both doubled over from laughing. "You're right," I said with tears in my eyes. "Now that you mention it, I am kind of sick of my birthday. I just want to have a normal day tomorrow."

A joke, but a true one. After taking a day to celebrate, it feels good to be back on the rails, enjoying an utterly normal Wednesday. I'll work, make dinner, clean up, and wind up on the couch with a beer, just as I'm accustomed to.

And thanks again for all the birthday wishes, everyone. Yesterday, I felt loved from all corners of social media, texts, and email. Friends, family, and readers, you all are the best.

Thanks for stopping by today. Jeremy Flinkman reminds you to never forget to date your spouse. Have a wonderful day today.