March is madness. This weekend everything planned. The new kitchen faucet purchased and waiting. The silicone was warm in the tube. The tools laid out like a surgeon ready to work magic. The best plans, never seem to work out.
Back up to Thursday morning. The early morning hours just before sunrise I’m driving to work. Strange I thought, the road not quite as bright as usual. My driver-side headlight blew. Frustrating to say the least. Eyes searching for the ever watchful law enforcement hiding along the side of the road.
Thursday itself was mundane yet long due to egos and attitudes. Friday couldn’t come soon enough. When it did, said attitudes didn’t change. Still perplexed as to why adults act worse than my nine-month-old.
Saturday, 9:00 am, the day of faucet replacement. I’m truly excited. I’m a man! Man must do things with tools. Man use tools. Man start to sound like tool, (insert incoherent grunt). Almost immediately, sophisticated man is stopped by old rust and nonremovable faucet. Man perplexed. Wife is chuckling.
Saturday, 11:30 am, suddenly, man finds himself driving to warehouse home improvement store with wife and child to find the right sink to go with new faucet.
Saturday, 12:00 pm, must rush home as baby son needs feeding as he indicated with banshee-like screams in warehouse store. Fortunately, new sink in trunk.
Saturday, 2:00 pm, grandparents show up. Grandma wanting to do early Easter gifts. Gramps remembering his youthful exuberance and plumbing tools. Sparing silicone-covered details, daddy endures several more trips to home improvement store.
Saturday, 6:00 pm, grandparents having left two hours earlier, daddy is watched by Little A, as daddy reinstalls the new sink, faucet, and trap. Medicinal alcohol chilling in refrigerator to lower daddy’s blood pressure.
Saturday, 10:30 pm, cranky son, exhausted parents, and new kitchen sink are all finally asleep.
Sunday, 8:30 am, remember blow headlight? Daddy can be found in cold driveway installing replacement bulb. Sunday Morning Musing post on his mind. Crap, friends are coming over before lunch.
March is madness. I remember once filling out boxes on paper. I believe they are referred to as “brackets.” Maybe one day again, my March of mayhem will simply be watching my teams get picked-off one by one. March is madness.