Here’s a partial list of things that sucked today: my lack of sleep, my crummy mood, the rude customer, and the SUV with the driver who used it as an urban assault vehicle to force himself into my lane, the drivers that think riding on my tail will get them home faster, and the tomato soup I nearly burned while typing. Days like this infuse the words ‘coming home’ with meaning.
I have the joy of coming home to a loving wife that I laugh with. Some days I come home to a daughter that makes me proud, makes me smile and punches me in the shoulders. Days like today I walk in and crank the stereo—loud. If I’m not listening to Pandora then I’ve got my Third Day, Jars of Clay and Pink Martinis. Once I’ve turned the music up loud and changed into jeans and tee-shirt I set myself down in my beat up blue office chair.
Once I sit down in the big-blue-beat-up-chair it can only mean one thing. I am turning on the computer. In my house she’s nicknamed ‘The Mistress.’ I don’t know why she’s called that. I gave my wife a kiss when I walked in the door, right? I have to know what’s happening in the world. Hey these blog posts don’t magically appear from thin air, okay?
On these days I am thankful for the home I have. It’ll take me a couple hours but the crummy mood will disappear, the rude guy will be forgotten, desired vengeance on my fellow drivers will (almost) abate and sleep will come. It is good to be home.
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