I’m not a complicated man. I enjoy the simple things in life. Finding money I didn’t know I had, making the yellow light or even getting the pull-through parking spot. I love putting on clothes straight from the dryer and freshly cut grass. My all-time favorite is sleeping in on a rainy day.
Which is what I’m trying to do here.
Fifteen years ago, in college, I was known for my stamina. I never passed out anywhere because this is the shit that would happen to you, on a GOOD night. Normally you would wake up without your eyebrows or have ‘scrotum’ written on your forehead in sharpie. Shaving cream in your hands, a bowl of water to make you piss, maybe they even cut all your clothes off in the fraternity living room and put you and your mattress on a campus sidewalk.
I would smack myself in the face or scream to stay awake, that’s how important it was. Eyebrows took a while to come back.
This, however, is a new day. I’m thirty-five and slipping. Obviously, people touching me in my sleep doesn’t even matter anymore. Luckily for me, my daughter Ava has simultaneously discovered the world of stickers and hazing my face.
I thought we could control it. Maybe it would turn out to be a phase.
I now spend a half-hour every Sunday, doing sticker removal. I find them everywhere. Under toilet seats, on the outside of my car, stuck to blankets, windows, even the dog. I should’ve known that she wouldn’t stop there. To date, here is her most vulnerable target. Sorry Charlie.