1 min read
25 Feb

Please excuse the desperate drivel that was this writer's previous posting... Desperation isn't a good look for a twenty-five year old father to be... 


It's about time the tires get turning- I was recently hired by a certain online automobile auction house as a Customer Service Specialist. A career? For certain. Sustainable? Let's hope so. I only doubt myself, surely not the brand. 

Also-I'm going to be a father- My goodness. 

My wife is here next to me this evening lying in bed, to my left, reading my words over my shoulder. I appreciate the constant critique. It's refreshing to have somebody besides myself editing as I peck away at this plastic keyboard. Our (my wife made sure I specified that Jojo is OUR cat) oldest cat to my left, Jojo, eyes still open but snoring as loud as Joe Biden without his CPAP.  Is she asleep? She's folded in her usual loaf like configuration- so cute.  

My neighbors are stomping, as they usually do, up the rickety, wood stairs in our apartment. They're heavy footed to put it lightly (no pun intended). 

I'm typing away tonight, at this hour, just after eleven, to help put my thoughts in order, The past few weeks have been turbulent, to say the least.  Sounds of inhaling to bated breathe still hang in the air and swirl around our heads. Waiting on other people to follow through with whatever their supposed to do is this worst kind of waiting. But it turns out that you can depend on some people to do their jobs. 

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