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The excitement of Fridays is gone. No longer is my group text popping off with “what’re we getting into tonight?” messages. Those ended a long time ago. Now it’s just a combination of trying to get out of dinner reservations and trying to figure out which bottle of under-$15 wine I’m going to buy.
Frankly, I’m okay with it. My body can’t take the ringer of going hard every weekend anymore. I really want to buy some wreaths on Saturday. Maybe knock out a couple chapters of a book I’ve yet to crack open. Do some drawing to clear the mind. I’m really not sure how I’ll fill my non-hungover time, but that’s okay. I’ll take it in stride.
What’s important to note here is that I’m no longer belaboring being washed. I’m in the acceptance phase. And these are the moments that have beaten me into that acceptance phase.
I willingly ate dinner at 5:23 p.m. the other night.
“Let’s beat the crowd,” I told my girlfriend as we put on our jackets to head to a local ramen spot. And beat the crowd we did. Honestly, I wasn’t exactly “hungry,” and I admittedly became more and more hungry as the clock ticked closer to 9 o’clock that night when I eventually just ate the leftovers as a second dinner.
Was it nice not having to wait to be seated at dinner? I mean, I guess. Is this trend going to eventually make me gain more weight than I’m already gaining because it sets the trend of eating double dinners every night? Well, yeah. Maybe I need to start hitting those reverse happy hours or something instead. I don’t know. I can’t remember the last time I stayed up past 11.
I got an oil change before I hit the mileage limit on the sticker.
I’m the guy who walks into an auto shop and gets absolutely shelled. They look at me and say, “There’s no way in hell this dude knows anything about cars.” And they’re not all that wrong. I can check my oil, jump a dead battery, and replace a flat tire. Outside of that, though? Nah. I’m screwed.
I don’t want to stunt on everyone too hard, but yeah, I hit peak responsibility by heading in before hitting the mileage on that stupid little sticker. I’m essentially the most responsible human being in the history of the human race. I’m Mr. Rogers.
I still need to get a car wash, a detail, and probably upgrade my car from a Ford Fusion to something else though. Maybe that station wagon I’ve been wanting for the better part of a year now.
We bought a vacuum cleaner on Black Friday.
And not just any vacuum cleaner. We’re in the big leagues now, baby. I’m talking about the Rolls Royce of vacuum cleaners. The crème de la crème. The Dyson Cyclone V10 Absolute. I can without a doubt say that it’s probably the nicest thing I own now, and it’s also the one thing I own that signals, “Yeah, this dude is washed as hell.”
To pull back the curtain, I wanted to buy a PlayStation 4 for $199 but they were sold out. I’ve been absolutely fixing to dip into playing some online FIFA but I can’t stomach paying full price for a console that’s going to deter all productivity in my life.
Lo and behold, I got Black Friday cucked. Instead of allowing my life to spiral by playing hours upon hours of FIFA, I now own a vacuum cleaner that’s probably more valuable than my car’s trade-in value. Whatever. At least my place is finally clean.
I incessantly complain to my apartment complex despite their lack of response.
Before moving into my new apartment, I had never been Apartment Complex Guy. Apartment complexes never really did much for me — that whole “Tiny Boxes on the Hillside” thing that weirded me out. All those people living next to each other with noises coming from above, below, and side-to-side? No thank you.
But the convenience and amenities got to me. Dog park. Gym (that I will absolutely never use). The pool. And a maintenance guy I can call to fix the cupboard that keeps coming unhinged.
Unfortunately, apartment life hasn’t proven to be a seamless transition. People are just leaving their dog poops in the dog park rather than picking them up. The dude that moved in above me sounds like he wears concrete shoes. One side of the community grill has really been acting up lately. Are these issues major? No. Have I sent emails about them to our front desk? Yes. Have they been responded to? Absolutely not because I’m fairly certain the person receiving the emails hates me. .
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Will
Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.
@willdefries
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Recently visited my sister and at her apartment complex. They DNA tested her dog when she moved in. If the maintenance guys find dog poop anywhere on the property, they send it in for testing and if your pup was the culprit, $250 fine.
I’d start putting my own poop outside.
does your sister live in Soviet Russia?!
Minnesota
Call me when you tweak your back reaching for a beer in the fridge.
I nearly had my back go out the other day by yawning.
Our complex tried to fine us for having a second trash bag( a no no for the valet trash “amenity” we pay $30/month for) while they had a literal dumpster in our parking lot for 3 weeks for other unit repairs. I went off and even cc’d the regional manager and it was the most fulfilling feeling I’ve had in a long time.
I had a soda the other day for the first time in probably a year and it felt like a dessert.
This is more of a transition into dad life. Which I am DOWN for.
The cordless Dyson is a game changer.
Our neighbor LOVES complaining to anyone and everyone and she refuses to back down so my new favorite hobby is telling her juicy gossip and then watching the battle from a distance
does it have to be real or can it be any cooked up gossip?
I try to keep it as real as possible just to not be a complete douche, but I do spice it up a little
The ramen in the stock photo looks amazing. I now know what I’m getting for dinner tonight.
Stock Photo? That’s Will’s Instagram
Picked up a Dyson Animal on Cyber Monday. I’ve never felt so old and responsible.
Realizing that I transitioned from the party boy to the responsible friend was an eye opener for how washed up I’ve become.