8/29/22 Journal: Not Really About Sky Zone

This morning, Evi and I took the kids to Sky Zone Trampoline Park, where they can jump up and down all they want and I don’t have to yell at them for it. They used to run some kind of special on Sunday mornings where you could bring toddlers for a reduced price for a couple of hours, but I guess this particular Sky Zone got sold and the new owners changed things. It ended up benefitting us, since now they let two-years-olds and under in for free. Sasha was more expensive than before, but since we didn’t have to pay for Norah, overall we paid less.

By the way, I don’t know if Evi had too much coffee or not enough, but she simply could not understand what was meant by “two years and under”. To 99.9999% of the population, that means if your stupid kid is two-years-old, or less than two-years-old, they get in for free. But my wife kept thinking about it literally. As in, Norah doesn’t qualify because she’s two-and-a-half now. She’s older than two years. As in, on your second birthday, sure, come on in, but tomorrow you better bring your damn wallet.

Sheesh. That’s what happens when you become a virtual reality programmer and think about everything in ones and zeroes.

Evi’s brain is so different from most people’s. She can design entire worlds you can visit using a VR headset. Her work is getting recognized in the IT community, and some companies are setting up Zoom calls with her just to tap her knowledge. And she taught herself everything! She never took one class!

Yet she can’t load a dishwasher. Seriously, there is NO logic to how she puts things in there. She puts plates right up against other plates so it’s impossible to clean one of them. She puts cutting boards up against each other the same way. We’d be better off if we had three cocaine-addled monkeys throw dishes in the racks.

“Who the hell loaded this dishwasher? Vandals?” I’ll yell.

She won’t pay attention. She’ll just keep programming. I’ll grumble to myself while re-organizing the entire thing.

It’s funny that I ended up in a marriage where I’m the OCD spouse. Believe me, nobody in my family imagined that. “I don’t know how a Type A woman will put up with you,” was how my sister phrased it. Yet now, I’m the one always lecturing about where things go. “If you return the diaper rash cream HERE every time we won’t have to search the whole goddamn house for it with a shitty diaper in one hand and wet wipes in the other!!” is a quote I’ve said way more than once.

Me.

I’m starting to sound like my dad.

Anyway, to be clear, Evi is amazing. Her intelligence and ability to concentrate and focus on a task is without equal. She probably can’t load a dishwasher (or remember to put the diaper rash cream away) because it’s beneath her to use her brainpower on such menial tasks. Also, she’s my wife and I don’t want to get yelled at.

Wait, wasn’t I supposed to be writing about Sky Zone? Man, I get off track when I’m journaling. Anyway, Sasha and Norah ran and jumped and ran and jumped some more and I’m $20 poorer for it. I didn’t take any pictures.

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