Perhaps the most annoying part of his stay was his eating habits. After sitting at the table he would completely cover his head in an ermine shawl and...by the sound of it...attack his food. Sometimes he'd yell at the top of his lungs..."I am the conqueror! You cannot escape my teeth. Die, food!."
Anyway. He's gone back to Miami and I can once again pursue a life filled with interesting things to blog about. Like this...
YESTERDAY I MADE AN OLD MAN NOISE
I was on the couch and as I got up I went, "Yuooooooip." It was quick. I don't think my wife and daughter heard it. But I knew. When old people get up from the couch they always make a noise. I call it "the helper noise". Without that noise, they can't get up.
I MADE THAT NOISE.
When everyone was asleep, I went back into the family room and sat on the couch. I then got up. The urge to go "Yuoooooooip" was strong. But I resisted. I practiced over and over and over. I don't want to make old man noises. I'm still in my forties. However, I fear I might be one of those to have E.O.O.M.N. (Early Onset Old Man Noise.)
My fear is that E.O.O.M.N. is usually the first stage of E.O.O.M.B. (Early Onset Old Man Behavior) and eventually E.O.O.M.F.S. (Early Onset Old Man Fashion Sense).
Truth be told, I think I might be in the grips of all three. We were at the mall yesterday. We stopped in at the book store and I told the person behind the counter that, "I want to read anything by Studs Terkel or Louis L'Amour." Then I asked if they had any Ed Ames records.
At the drugstore I felt compelled to buy easy-grip canning jars. When my wife asked why I said, "Hush, woman! To put my nails and bolts in! Now stop naggin' and get me liniment."
Perhaps most disturbing was that I started whistling the tune to Winchester Cathedral while whittling a toy boat on the front porch. (We don't have a front porch per se, so I sat in the middle of the street and yelled at kids when they came by on their bikes.) I told them all to "slow down or I'll call the police and that I know what they're up to and I have a shotgun for protection."
When my wife served dinner last night I complained that the portions were too big and that I just wanted tomato soup and melba toast.
Most telling, I think, is that while watching television I complained bitterly that the commercials were too loud and that the weather girl was a honey.
Then, while tucking my daughter in for bed I asked if she knew how to dial 911 in case daddy fell.
While I write this I'm thinking seriously about buying, front-zipper overalls for puttering around in the workshop. We don't have a workshop.
On the upside, this morning I got a call from a telemarketer that said I had won a grand prize. Yep. My own island. Yep. All I had to do was give him my credit card numbers to confirm I'm me. He was very pleasant. The island should be arriving soon.