With the top popped from an ice cold India Pale Ale, I casually stroll through the house. The mouth watering smell of charcoal briquettes heating up…on someone else’s barbecue wafts through my windows and spurs hunger pangs. Damn.
With dinner going, I’m working on my second beer, laundry going and picking up the house. The kids are unpacking. It’s at this moment that I realize, damn, I’m domesticated! What a huge change from just a few short years ago.
Two and half years ago my daughter was born and my life of partying, heaving drinking, doing whatever I felt came to a serious and abrupt end. Is that a bad thing? Depends on who you talk to. At this moment I’m cool with it but at times I do miss it. When I finally do get this house cleaned up and dinner finished I’m sure I’ll be proud of this mountain of an accomplishment.
All these responsibilities do take away from my writing time and personal time but when I look over and see my daughter dancing, in her little girl way, to the metal music blasting from my computer’s speakers it makes it all worth it. I guess being domesticated isn’t so bad. The beer is pretty tasty too and since I don’t drink near as much as I used to, the small buzz comes on a lot quicker. I guess it’s just all about perspective.
With that, I better go make sure the smoke I’m smelling isn’t coming from my stove and just coming through the windows.