therapy

before i get started on today's silliness, i just want to throw this out there: ever been really low, like wish i would die, actually thinking bout doin it to myself low, and someone you thought would stand by you actually kicked you while you were down by making it about themselves? yeah, sure sucks.

but that is neither here nor there, o beloved readers. yesterday, i was starting to have one of those days. everything felt wrong, and i was morose and mopey for absolutely no reason whatsoever. it was shaping up to be fucking ugly, o my droogs and only friends, when a magical thing happened.

i went in the back yard to have a water fight with my kids.

we have, no shit, a veritable arsenal of water weaponry. and we tucked right in. nothing beats the blues like hosing your kids down, and having them squirt you in the face. the sun glinting off of droplets of water caught in your eyebrows, your kids squealing with a combination of fear and laughter, standing bare-chested in the sun, supersoakers in each hand, laughing maniacally as your kids dive behind walls and bushes and drop you like a scene from platoon.

no. 2 actually directed a rather heavy stream of water directly into my ear while i reloaded a gun for no. 1. the wife got in on the action, using the hose to send jets of chilly water across my back (which you know, if you have ever found yourself hunkered down in the middle of a rather agregious bit of water battling, is the most vulnerable part of the human anatomy), and ultimately, i rose victorious from the fray. that's not to say that my family didn't soundly kick my ass, it's just that the funk that was building behind my eyes disippated like mist in the wind.

the kids are scared of me now, though. not sure if it's cause i shaved my hair into a mohawk, or i stand in front of the mirror with the supersoakers saying, "you talking to me?"

heh heh.

till the next one, all.

darth sardonic