31 July 2011

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Beer


Woke up to the sound of the pissing rain this morning. My dog's tongue was telling my face to wake the fuck up. Lick, lick, lick. Sonja had the blankets. I had a pillow.

I pet the Hammer, still half asleep. I asked myself, as I do, "What did you drink last night?" I thought about it real hard but I could not remember. Then a faint memory began to form like a green cloud in my thunderstorm of a brain. Faint as your memories of when economic times were good. Absinthe? Surely I had not been into the absinthe again.

I stopped petting the Hammer and she lay back down for a couple of minutes before she was back for more. Cool mornings feel better to big dogs than your first beer of the day.

I got up. The Hammer did not want out. She wanted to play. We played. Then I made coffee, put the ingredients to hamburger buns in the bread machine and unloaded and loaded the dishwasher. The cool morning must have perked me up some too.

In between my morning chores I did my absinthe shitting. Not as pleasant an experience as a regular old beer shit. More like a space shuttle taking off than anything else.

Sonja woke up. I brought her book to her. I can hear her turning the pages. The window open, I can hear my neighbours packing themselves into their Japanese truck and Canadian trailer. In four or five hours they will be by a lake, getting ripped as the rest of their countrymen.

Soon enough my neighbours and I who have elected to stay home this long weekend will begin hitting the beer and operating power tools as unsafely as possible. Some of us will end up in the hospital where we will thank our lucky stars and the old commie farmers of Saskatchewan that we live in Canada.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Seriously hate it when Dude unloads the dishwasher.... It's like freakin lunch time at the wagon wheel cafe with the clanging and clinking and cupboard slamming,

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

In my lifetime men's household activities have changed some. Since the beginning of the industrial revolution men have been engaged in noisy tasks. That might explain the clinking, clanging and slamming. All that noise makes us think we are getting something done. Today men are left to find their place in a quiet world, a world we are not quite meant for.

uniplmr1 said...

It is just like that for me. I am a domesticated man. I actually did change shitty diapers and not only did the dishes, I installed the dishwasher. There were no machines available then that you could trust to change your kids diapers or I would have had one. I slammed and clanged the dishes but never the kid.I still act the same way, thirteen years of domesticated bliss later. I know it's bad, you don't have to tell me.