Recently I was talking to a good friend of mine. This in and of itself is amazing because I suck at telephony. All my friends know this, yet for some reason they stay friends with me. These people are going straight to heaven.
So at one point in the conversation, I asked my friend if he was tired. He sounded worn-out, which is not unusual for him as he is a doctor and hyperactive like a Welsh Terrier hopped-up on Horse Mumpy. He’s a busy dude.
As he sighed, he explained that he was indeed tired, but not because of hospital duties. “I was on a stakeout last night,” he confessed. “I spent two and a half hours crouched in our bushes trying to catch the little bastard who keeps stealing our Obama signs.” He went on to tell me about how they’ve had three stolen thus far, and that he had done some detective work and found fingerprints on one that had been deposited in a neighbor’s trashcan. “I think I’m dealing with a junior high punk. And I’ve got my running shoes on to catch their ass too.”
When I asked him what he planned to do if he caught them he responded, “I’m gonna march their ignorant ass to their parents house and have a little chat with their father about responsibility.” I rejoined, “so you’re putting another sign out tonight?” “Yea, but this is my last one. If they take this one I’m seriously going to take the 6-foot by 10-foot Obama barn sign that we have the garage and bolt it to the damn house. See if the little bastard can steal that!”
And while I had previously been stressed out and cranky, thinking about our upcoming road trip with The One Who Takes No Naps™, I was now rolling with laughter. The same kid who took me to Meijer at 2 a.m. so he could find some way to put a screen door on his apartment, the same man who at the age of 28 bought Wheelies to wear around the hospital so as to see patients faster — he’s ready to give lectures on civic responsibility to delinquent adolescents.
I should keep my phone on me more often. I have some pretty amazing friends that do a great job of cheering me up.
