Synaptic synopsis

Unsurprisingly, it took a fraction of the time to get reacquainted with my returned family Friday evening as it did to settle in to the unfamiliar embrace of Solitude when she usurped their place the preceding Sunday.  I cast my gaze back at her a little longingly when Amy pulled up in the driveway, having braved a five hour drive made over eight hours, exacerbated and elongated by the blowing snow and treacherous conditions that prevailed for the first half of her trip.  But my temporary mistress cannot live easily beside my mate, so I let the former go. 

Besides, on a lark, and in order to take advantage of having arrived home that afternoon before she did, I wanted to bide my time so that I could lay a pickle on the living room window as a memorable reminder of my wife's safe arrival home.  And so I did.

(She called me from south of Calgary - less than halfway home - and revealed in terse sentences how bad the roads were and how the stark whiteness of the blanketing snow so nicely complemented her knuckles on the steering wheel.  She told how if I didn't hear from her again by three o'clock that afternoon - it was late morning at the time of this first call - I should probably panic and presume the worst.  Call the police, send out the dogs.  Nice.)

But back to Sunday afternoon.

With my truck lost around the corner, family departed, I did, after some few moments that stretched to near an hour, make my way out of the house, still with my wife and boys on my mind, and with the express intent to buy a bookshelf so that the maelstrom of stamping paraphernalia that currently inundates the deeper parts of our basement be tamed to a more manageable flurry, or even a tepid squall.  Though my intent was single-minded when I left the house, it did not long remain so.  From deep in the recesses of my subconscious loomed a spectre that had long sought release.  It coalesced that same afternoon and fully forced me to walk into the nearest Staples and buy the expansion pack for Diablo 2.  And so I did.

I frittered away most of the rest of my Sunday in front of the computer, installing, re-installing and re-acquainting myself with an addiction only a full uninstall had kicked some few years ago.  I was again imbued with the ability to raise the pixelated dead and slay the animated living with the merest click of my finger.  And so I did.

I have grown stronger in the intervening years.  A habit kicked once no longer holds so strong a sway when re-introduced.  More a balancing act, then, and not as much a full and unconscious immersion.  My faculties were mine and I intended to keep fully in possession of them.  As proof of this, I offer the fact that one night mid-week was spent gaming via the internet with a friend in Montreal.  My necromancer's nefarious magicks were complemented by the unparallelled killing grace of his deadly lady assassin.  The hilarity of the moment reared up and smote me full in the jaw when I realised that quite some time had passed, and here we were, stealing time away from our respective families to delve into an escapist realm, and all we had done for long minutes was stand idle in the Den of Evil (having slain all nearby threats with an efficacy as would make Achilles reel) and use the in-game chat feature to catch up on domestic goings-on and exchange competing methods to, of all things, wash dishes.

These years have changed the man I am, no doubt.

Thankfully, I was able to trade off gaming with actively exorcising the responsibilities I had latterly set myself.  The vacuum closet got a right thorough sorting.  I would not believe we were in possession of so many batteries had I not seen them all with mine own eyes, and even lined then up from D to C to double-A, to a few aberrant nine-volts.  Fully dozens of them, my friends.  Countless tens.

Similarly, the spice cabinet.  It was emptied and cast haphazardly about the counter and stove top.  The prime occupant of the just-mentioned vacuum closet was brought to bear on small islands of dill weed and migrating shoals of itinerant pepper corns.  A forest of cinnamon sticks was victimised by a ruthless slash 'n burn, and a fallen carpet of bay leaves swept together that they may still see the moister side of a stew or a chili. 

Entropy got a right good drubbing in the Fraser household this past week -- one from which it will take a long while to recover and marshal its forces.  And I'll be waiting.

Later in the week my intentions to chip away at the by now geographically impressive stratigraphy of urine and dog shit layered throughout the backyard had very nearly fully coalesced into a kinetic force of action.  And then it snew.  And got right bloody cold.  A fresh layer of monochrome strewn over
a daunting task, combined with temperatures wont to make flesh freeze after only a small exposure, were quite enough to thwart my good intentions and divert them back to their previous occupation of slowly and methodically laying paving stones to a warmer clime.  They've been at it for quite a long while.

Mid-week, the phone rang.  Which was strange, since by then all Amy's regular conspirators knew of her absence and the time of her approximate return.  And folk rarely call for me, unless it's my mother and I'm being reminded that it's (again) been too long since she and Grandpa got some baby time.

It wasn't my mother, it was one of my wife's confidantes, and it was for me.  Odd.  Ended up I was asked out on a date with an erstwhile bridesmaid.  She stood to the left of the woman who was to be my bride three and a half years ago, and now she wanted dinner with me.  Score!  I texted Amy in an effort to engender a jealous response, but was rewarded with nothing more than an earnest reply, insisting we enjoy ourselves.  Dammit!

My only real regret of the week is that I never did indulge in the reading I wanted to.  I elected to fight faux demons and hell-spawn after work, or some evenings I got right domestically inspired and rewarded myself by putting my feet up to watch a movie into the small hours with only a stiff single-malt scotch as temporary accompaniment.  He never once made it to the end of a flick.

Now, the full force of familiar domestic routine has reasserted itself with an ease that I have to admit I find more than a little disconcerting.  I already smacked one dog but good on the snout for getting too close to Tavish's food, and Amy already glowered menacingly at me for my too-quick response.  The uneasy balance has been restored. 

Solitude again orbits about our singular family, and I'll snatch out at her when I can.

Comments

[Alec Lynch]

Excellent post as always. Few can make a discussion of backyard excrement so eloquent. I wonder though, at one point does it just become easier to lay down a fresh layer of sod and think oneself clever for gathering so much free fertilizer?

-Alec (who will be keeping his eyes open for expansion packs in anticipation of the next time Evil has a chance to call)

[Moksha Gren]

Between this site and Breed 'em and Weep, I'm beginning to think of poo-lit as some sort of new non-fiction genre. Such passion, such eloquence, such stench.

A pickle on the window? eh?

Glad you enjoyed your freedom and relieved the Beastmaster-like wings of the roof-perched Diablo were tamed. The devil can be a fun playmate...in controlled doses.

Moonshot and I were discussing your date. Yes, we wile away our evenings discussing the finer points of your life, Simon. Ya see, Moonshot has certainly spent quailty alone time with friends of mine. And I have gone to dinner and caught a movie with married female friends. However, we would both stop short of calling such things dates. However, you causual fling about the word "date" and then avoid any discussion of the details of said "date." And although your "randiness" toward the end of last week speaks well of the innocent nature of this get-together, we're concerned that the devil on your rooftop may have skipped the digital temptation and instead focused its attentions elsewhere. Please reassure us so that our dinner conversation can return to the normal, "You know...for a guy who discusses poo so much, that Simon seems like a nice guy."

[Paul]

Aren't we overdoing it with the "snew?"

[Simon]

Alec, I may have to look into the poo-sod option come the spring. Can you lay sod directly over top of a concrete patio? Perhaps I'll be the first.

Moksha, I am thankful that Amy and I know where we can and can't speak casually about our mixed-gender relationships. The dinner I had on Wednesday was with a gal whom Amy and I both consider a friend, though she was Amy's first and so mine by association. All three of us have discussed oral sex while in the same room (uh, the living room), and while that may appear, at first, to be a counter-argument to the dinner I had on Wednesday, it more clearly defines for us where certain uncrossable boundaries lie.

Case in point: early on in our budding relationship, I made the grave mistake of going for lunch with an ex-flame who happened to be in town. Strictly casual, just catching up, but the ramifications of that date were the closest we've ever come to being on seriously shaky ground. Bad as it was, it crystallised where certain boundaries lay.

I'm sad now though. I've spent so many years trying to get away from the 'nice guy' stigma that it pains me to reassert its presence.

Paul, no. But I will stop now.

[Mark]

To play the game and prove you have control is an accomplishment worth sharing (I'm referring to Diablo and the "date" here).

Glad you managed to get a few things accomplished in the domestic realm. Too bad about the crap, though. Sounds like spring thaw should be rather interesting, and I'm glad I won't be there on the first hot day.

I was hoping for a "While You Were Out"-style video, but maybe next time.

Now, for that "How to Eat a Coffee Crisp" post. I'm ready to see it.

[Paula]

Is an abbreviated synopsis also known as 'synopis'?

[Linda]

I vote for the sod thing. Way easier to translate than the "geographic stratigraphy" crap.
Yay for stamping shelves! Wait, you did get them, right? At this point I hardly remember what you did accomplish and what you didn't. Whichever, it made for an interesting post.
Mokker, I can attest to the Simian's iron willpower. I showed up there Tuesday night, (more like early Wednesday morning), chilled to the bone in not much more than a trenchcoat and garter belt. He wrapped me in a blanket, fed me Reese's F***ing Toast (not even a Coffee Crisp) and chocolate milk and we watched cartoons for six and a half hours until I had to leave. Fatal blow to the old ego, that one was. Furthermore, I ruined a perfectly good pair of spike heels traipsing through the poop. (Had I known beforehand that he was "saving himself" for Amy's friend, I could have saved myself the trouble...)
Really glad though the fambly arrived home safely and are back in a normal routine.

Si, when you do get the yard shovelled or whatever it is that you do, keep an eye out for a black leather glove, I seem to be missing one. Thanks, Sweet ;-)

[vinny]

1) I feel so abandoned. (Not really. The devil's work is always ready for me.) Lemme know if you see a block of time you need to waste.

2) Alec, I have a new registration code for you to replace the one you sent me so if you do find an expansion pack, I got you covered.

[Moksha Gren]

What's wrong with being a nice guy? Sure, it's a killer when spoken by a woman you're wooing. But now that we've got wives that love us and kids to crawl on us...isn't it time we make peace with our inner niceness? Besides, if you were less nice...you wouldn't have been trusted to have a friendly dinner with Amy's friend. So, there are benifits.

I may pretend to hold onto my inner gren...but I don't really think I'm fooling anyone ;)

[Simon]

Mark, I'll get around to working on that video. Not sure when.

Linda, did you drop a pearl necklace too? Or should I just hawk it?

vinny, I'll let you know when I get another block of waste-able time. Um, 'later' is the best I can do right now. :)

Moksha, the knowledge that I'm a nice guy has never left me. And really, it's a weak offensive I put up against being so labelled. I'm not fooling myself, let alone anyone else!

[Linda]

Not mine. You're busted ;-)

[Moksha Gren]

Oops! Those pearls may have been mine, Si. I'll pick em up next time Amy goes out of town.

[Linda]

Oh yeah, like Amy's ever going to leave Simon home alone again. Unless of course, she's not on to us... But more than likely, she's probly wearing my glove and your pearls and snickering to herself right now. Amy darling, you look ravishing.

[Mike]

Yawn... do you insinuate infidelity as a ploy to draw in readers? ...pathetic. If you are cheating on your wife its just a matter of time until she finds out and leaves you - taking your two children with her. You won't feel so clever then. On the other hand if you aren't cheating on your wife surely you have some more interesting things in your life to make you feel readable? (Things that show a little more respect for your children and the woman who gave birth to them for you)

[Simon]

Hi Mike. Thanks for taking the time to comment. The sheer incongruousness of what you said presented me with the opportunity to turn it into a post all on its own. Tune in on Tuesday!

[Jenn]

#1 I just want to say I like poo-lit and want to co-author the first book of its kind with Si.

#2 Si, can't wait for your Tuesday post. Mike, dude! WTF?!? Did I miss something?