No work today, so he slept until 4 in the afternoon. Now, he games.
He crawled out of bed, showered and went to work. I will be asleep when he returns home.
I wish he had more days like yesterday and less like today.
I found a note from his sister on his desk while straightening his room.
He bounced out of bed and was fully dressed and ready to leave when his ride arrived to take him to a local ComiCon. He returned home in the evening with a smile glued to his face and a bag filled with figurines, “magic” potions, trading cards and a stuffed Rocket Raccoon. He promptly announced that he was pre-ordering tix for the next event.
He woke up, showered and went to work. Everyone will be asleep when he comes home. He will game until people start waking up for the day. Then, he’ll go to bed.
Except tonight might be different. He has plans for tomorrow that he has been excitedly anticipating all week. He will either skip sleep entirely or go to sleep and wake fifteen minutes before his ride arrives in the morning. It’s silly to point out his options, even though I did. Repeatedly. He won’t sleep tonight.
I had to be somewhere today, so I left the house while he was still in bed. I don’t know if he showered and walked to work on time or if he was late. Without me here announcing the time every five minute, I have my suspicions. I know for certain that he hated having to walk to work. He doesn’t dislike walking. He hates the feeling of sweat trickling down his skin. It’s too creepy crawly for his comfort.
He doesn’t work today, so he slept until four in the afternoon. Now he’s gaming and his smack talk is decidedly cheerful. Nobody rocks his boat when he’s this happy.
Spring storms in the South are poetic in their beauty and potential for destruction. When he is home on his computer, his headphones and screen act as barriers that prevent him from noticing anything outside his bubble, like the weather. If his connection isn’t interrupted and the power doesn’t blink, he doesn’t know when there is rain, thunder and lightning. Tonight, we had a nasty wave of storms. Because he was at work, he saw the light show in the sky. He felt the wind in his hair and the rain on his skin. He heard the slow rolling and sudden crackling of thunder. The benefits of working aren’t limited to economic and social. The awareness and sensory experience of the volatility and magnificence of nature is vital.
We are in the process of cutting cable television and relying on the Internet for our entertainment programming. The cable part of the move means nothing to him. He does not watch television. The Internet part of the move is having some bumps. Today began with a note taped to a chalkboard door that Dad promptly answered. I have no idea why he didn’t write on the chalkboard door.
His went to his grandfather’s for a short visit. His grandfather will work on projects around the house and he’ll watch while they chat. Today’s project is lawnmower repair, so his job will be getting the tool from the toolbox to his grandfather’s hand and then returning it to the box. His grandfather has a special talent for engaging whatever the current topic of perseveration is while I change the subject or ask stupid questions. “Do you think their armor smelled like sweat and urine?”
When he was younger and obsessed with all things space, I tried to learn new things to add to the endless chatter about a single topic. He always knew it already.