You Think You Have Problems

My wife is threatening to leave me if I am not home more often to help around the house, and with the kids. Here I am, on a Saturday, in full riot gear, intimidating a crowd of seniors and college kids protesting hydraulic fracturing.

Someone has to pay the bills, fill the refrigerator and gas tanks, save for retirement, and future university tuitions. Overtime does that.

I wonder, often aloud, where I’m supposed to find the extra hours to mow lawns, wash dishes, fold laundry, give baths, chauffeur kids to play dates, cook meals, and shop for groceries, as well? A brain also needs a minimum amount of sleep in order to function properly.

Ah, shit, grandma. Don’t do it. Don’t you fucking do it. I don’t want to have to club ‘n’ cuff some old broad who should be home baking cookies for her grandkids.

I mean, hell, I agree with your stance. That fracking shit is no good. Big Greasy Oil and Gas is poisoning the planet. My kids’ll live clean, eat right, and still end up cancer-ridden; shortest lifespans we’ve seen in a century.

Damnit, Ethel, put down the bear spray...