Trotro blares relentlessly in the background. I'm almost positive Netflix has something against me personally. They took Adventure Time off of their line up but leave this junk and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?
Every morning it's the same thing. The baby wakes up and screams for bananas, jams a couple down his throat (I swear the kid has learned to unhinge his jaw and was a snake in a past life), orders are barked at me to put on whatever cartoon suits his mood, and I escape to the patio with a pack of cigarettes and a mug of coffee, half of which ends up on my pants, to search cheap vacations in other countries and live vicariously through other people's yelp reviews.
Next, I dream of taking an uninterrupted shower while cleaning pee and poop off of the floor/baby/dogs/any tangible surface.
I take a few moments to ponder how I can effectively reduce my carbon footprint and then I just gather all of the plastic shopping bags in the house and force feed them to my pet whale, Thomas.
My life is so ordinary compared to how I thought I would be living at this age when I was a kid. I had dreams, goals, ideals, you know? And now, peeing alone seems like a feat of greatness.