4/4/22 Journal: My Wife’s Carnage

I spent all weekend not writing my book.

Oh, I had plans to write. I pictured myself, with my laptop, maybe a cup of coffee next to me, out by our swing that’s hung on a mango tree, just cranking away at that keyboard, composing the amazing, magical, almost musical ingenuity that will someday make me a billionaire writer. The words would come as easy as a Spring breeze, as my loving wife sunned herself and my adorable daughters played together in harmony.

Then Saturday morning started.

“Get up,” said my wife Evi. “We have Elijah’s birthday party at 10 AM.”

The words barely registered. It didn’t help that I was slightly hungover. I had a Friday afternoon meeting with my Branch Managers, and there’s no such thing as a Friday afternoon meeting with my Branch Managers that doesn’t involve naughty brunettes. I of course had no idea we had Saturday morning plans, but there was no use admitting that. Why get myself in even more trouble?

Elijah is one of my four-year-old daughter Sasha’s friends, and his party was at Chuck E. Cheese. “Great,” I said to myself. “Sounds like a fantastic place to overcome a hangover. No earsplitting noise there.”

It actually wasn’t bad; In fact, I mostly enjoyed myself. My favorite anecdote is playing this “Fast & Furious” car racing simulation game where you sit inside and, well, race. I’ve never been all that great at arcade games, but I consider myself an excellent driver, so what the hell. I set it on “easy” and made it a few laps before I ran out of time. I considered that a win.

Evi saw me enjoying myself and decided she wanted to play. When it came time to choose a track, I set it to “Easy”.

“No,” said Evi. “I want ‘Medium’.”

“What? No Evi, trust me, you want ‘Easy’.”

“NO, I want ‘Medium’!”

I had no idea why she would want to have the game any harder than it already was. She had never done any virtual driving of any kind before, and–let’s be honest–I’m not all that much a fan of her actual driving.

“Are you sure? Why don’t you try the ‘Easy’ setting at first?”

“No no no, put it on “Medium’!”

“Okay, okay…here’s a “Medium” track.” I selected exactly that, and she began to race. What followed was the most horrid display of driving ever seen on any simulation. She hit trees, oncoming cars, signs, pretty much every obstacle the programmers thought to make. She drove into rivers, smashed bridge pilings, and spun out of control through grass fields. In fact, the only place she didn’t drive was on the actual track.

She would’ve done more devastation, but I don’t think the gaming developers ever considered anyone driving so badly. I wish they had. They should’ve put bus stops with innocent bystanders, families picnicking in the fields, maybe a peaceful drum circle under a gazebo, all of which my wife would’ve certainly plowed through, killing everyone.

Then they could’ve had cartoon ambulances, first responders, and policemen rush to the scene. And even a news reporter saying things like, “Witnesses are devastated by what they saw. Authorities still have not confirmed whether alcohol or recreational drugs were involved, but really, how could they not? Back to you, Bob.”

After about 45 seconds of bloody carnage, Evi simply got up and walked away from the game. I jumped in and tried to save it, but it was too late to make to the next lap. I’m just glad I wasn’t arrested.

Anyway, after Chuck E. Cheese, seeing as how we were already all dressed and out, we stayed out. We stopped by the Edison Home and hung out for a while (We’re annual pass members for reasons beyond me; I think going once about every ten years is fine). Then we decided the weather was perfect for swimming, so we went to the Cape Coral Yacht Club. Nowhere in any of this did my fingers touch a keyboard.

Same with Sunday. We spent the day working on the house, and even in the few minutes I did have to myself, I couldn’t make myself write. There is something about it being the right time, and being in the right frame of mind. Apparently, early morning is it for me.

So I’m going to have to kick it up a notch. I once read where John Grisham, back when he was an attorney with a wife and kids, felt he had no choice but to get up at 4:30 AM and be in the office by 5:30 AM so he could steal a few hours for writing. My God, is that what it’s going to take? I’m not a morning person.

Let’s see if I can wake up at 5:30 AM first.

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