In the never ending sitcom that is my life, chapter 435 happened today.
We found out over the weekend that one of my neighbors has cancer and is getting ready to undergo chemo and radiation (this, along with the news that Jerry Remy had cancer surgery late last year is the final confirmation I need in order for me to wish cancer to get cancer). So Ang, along with several other neighbors organized a movement for all of us to put purple ribbons around the mailbox to show our support for him and his family.
In order to spread the word, Ang asks the innocent next door neighbor to watch Trot while she goes door to door to get support; according to her, it wasn't 10 minutes before she witnessed the following.
Trot, wearing a nothing but a pair of crocks and a smile, running down the middle of the road yelling his head off and looking for a wall to run into. Turns out he'd messed his pants and while the poor sucker my wife conned into watching him cleaned up the mess, Beavis decided to make a break for it and in the process scarred half the neighborhood for life.
This, combined with his visit to the Doctor on Tuesday where he took his physical and promptly told anyone in a 3 county radius how he peed in a cup is enough to make me seriously consider moving to Iceland.
I love my son more than life itself, but he's starting to make Rakes look like an alter boy which is the real world equivalent of a Red Sox fan liking Joba Chamberlain or Derek Jeter.
All this, combined with the Sox losing to the Indians tonight 9-2 is causing me to revisit that wacky idea I had a few years back about becoming a monk.
Although I'm pretty sure when they do the background check and discover I sired the second coming of Butch and Sundance my request will get thrown in the closest available trash can.
Which is really a shame.
I think I could pull off the bald look.
Timmeh tomorrow and MP in 2 weeks.
With a little bit of luck and some divine intervention I just may make it until then.