Author: Matthew Groff

Do you remember when you were a kid, and the sound of a word that you had said a thousand times, all of a sudden started sounding weird? Like, multiple… Multiple… why does that sound mean that? M-U-L-T-I-P-L-E… weird.

The way a word can sound weird is kind’a how I feel about working… Working is just weird…

How did we as a society get to where we are when it comes to employment?

I know that working originated with, well, survival, and the things you had to do each day to stay alive.

My ancestors “work” was hunting a mammoth… Mine is making spreadsheets all day.

Doesn’t seem comparable.

It also could be that since I hit 40, I have been wondering if all this time at the office is really worth it.

The truth is that I would prefer to not work at all, and just lay around and read books.

The real truth is that I would prefer to sit around and watch movies and think about the books I should be reading…

And then there is that thing about having a kid, and I feel like I should be setting a good work ethic. Such as, see how Dad likes his job, and how he is happy going to work, and then he is happy when he comes home from work.

But still, getting up, going someplace, being there for 8 hours, and then going home, and only having a few hours with my family before we go to bed and repeat.

It just sounds weird…

Have you heard about this James Comey book? It seems to be a big deal…

The wife and I watched The Comey Interview on ABC last Sunday. It was neat, and if you don’t like Trump, then it was a lot of fun.

There was one thing he said at the end, which was he sure hoped that Trump wasn’t impeached and removed from office, as what Comey preferred was that the people should vote him out, to make it legitimate.

The wife and I debate that statement, as we both wondered if the country, or even the world would still be standing come January 2021. (It does sound like a long way off, huh?)

But I do understand his point. Impeachment, and the trial in the Senate, is not a criminal matter; it’s a political one. We can look at Andrew Johnson’s and Bill Clinton’s impeachments and trials as political theatre; an act to remove someone politicians from didn’t like. If we, the people, don’t want Trump in office, then we have a system that allows us the people to remove him; voting. If you don’t like Trump’s policies, then vote in a Congress that will act as a check on his power. If you think he is abusing the Constitution, then it is the job of the Supreme Court to rule on it. (That one is iffy, but I have faith.)

Comey is a “Rule of Law” type guy, as his career shows, and basically he is advocating that the rule of law should continue.

So vote.

As I get older, I just want everything new to suck.

I worry often if I am stunting my child’s development by the amount of time I spend telling her about TV shows from the 80’s and 90’s.

A scary thought that jumps into my head is that, out there in America, there is a person who voted for Nixon twice, Bush twice, Trump once, and if possible Trump again. And that person is proud of that distinction.

Does anyone take a Sunday drive anymore?

I vaguely remember that at a block party when I was a kid, that one of the fathers, who was wearing sandals, had six toes on one foot. And he caught me silently counting his toes when I thought no one was looking. I can still see that goofy look on his face, as he wasn’t embarrassed, but he was acknowledging my surprise that such a thing as extra toes was possible.

I am the type of person who can eat the same thing every day for breakfast and lunch, by dinner has to be different every night. No repeats.

I can’t find water rockets at toy stores anymore. Did they become illegal like lawn darts? Back in the early 80’s, they seemed to be readily available. At least they were in Illinois. I have lots of memories of shooting water rockets off in my grandparents back yard. That was an innocent form of fun.

Me and the wife went out to dinner with another couple last night. They are very good and close friends to us, and it had been over three years since the four of us were able to have a dinner together without children.

Maybe I haven’t been sleeping well, maybe I was just off from the day I had … but I wasn’t present like everyone else.

Not that I didn’t want to be there. I did, and had been looking forward to this dinner since it was booked over a week ago.

…But I had nothing to talk about.

My wife had things to talk about, and the other couple had stories, and plans, and observations, and items of interest about our mutual friends.

I sat there with my bourbon, listening, but feeling that I had nothing to add; nothing that was going on with me that was of value. I had nothing to share.

I felt rather blank.

Maybe it was an off night.

“What’s going on with you?” was the question that was posed to me.

“You know, staying busy and out of trouble,” was my answer, followed with, “And you?”

A deflection. A parry. A dodge. A hustle.

I nursed a drink. I picked at roasted brussel sprouts. I talked about SNL.

Has it come to this? Will I speak about the weather, and say, “Wait a minute and it will change, am I right?”

Am I becoming boring?

A free day from work, and I have spent it doing laundry. Thus, the life of the family man; extra time means that I need to do something like a chore.

I’m not complaining, as I do get a deep satisfaction from, such as today, washing the sheets for my kid’s bed and her favorite dress so she can ware it at school tomorrow. Making her happy makes me happy.

It’s the change that has happened to me, which is a clear delineation from the old me.

A day off pre-child, let alone, pre-marriage, meant staying up late and sleeping in. I might treat myself to a lunch, and a couple of afternoon beers. Maybe a nap… watch a movie. Knowing me, even though I would have work then next day, I would stay up late again.

Now, I have a window to get things done, and no farting around.

But I do fart around.

I just spent 20 minutes looking at blazers at J Crew. Do I need a blazer? I don’t think so, but I like the idea of shopping for one.

I still have this to finish, and a few essay ideas that I want to sketch out, but there are dishes in the sink.

And then there is the book of Faulkner short stories that I bought the other day that I would like to read.

It’s as if I have too many options, but I want to be able to accomplish something now. That is the measure of the day; what did I get done? Not how I relaxed it away.