Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Sunday, January 7, 2018
The first Presidential election in America was held on January 7, 1789. As expected, George Washington won. Which means our first President was a Middle Child.
Depending on how you look at it.
You see, the father of the “Father of our Country,” Augustine Washington, was a busy man. He had 10 children with two wives. George was the first born of 6 from the second Mrs. Washington. But George had 4 older siblings from his father’s first marriage. So while many firstborns like to claim him as one of their own, in reality our first President was a Middle Child.
I cannot tell a lie.
Monday, January 1, 2018
I hear a lot of people saying things like, “2017 had it’s ups and downs.” But for me, 2017 ended neither up or down, but stuck. Literally. In an elevator.
For 30 minutes.
I had just taken the elevator down to the garage when I realized I had forgotten my car keys. Again. Sensing my wife’s annoyance, I assured her it was no big deal. “I’ll be back down in 2 minutes.” But Otis, the god of elevators, had other plans for me.
I did not panic. Partly because I knew it would not help me get out of the elevator any quicker, but mostly because there was a camera in the elevator observing my every move. I was pretty sure whoever was watching was laughing at me anyway, and I didn’t want to give them any more fodder. I also didn’t need any video floating around out there of me freaking out or picking my nose, so I played it real cool. I was able to frequently check my look in the mirror, and I’m pretty sure I pulled it off. I was also pleased it was a pretty good hair day. And thankfully, I was alone. It would’ve been an even more annoying experience if I had to deal with someone else's anxiety, or make small talk with some stranger for half an hour.
It just leaves you feeling like, “Well, that was a shitty way to end the year.” If it happens on January 1, you have a whole year to undo it.
After 30 minutes deep in thought, the Ft. Lauderdale Fire Dept. came to my rescue and pried the doors open, so I didn’t have time to fully explore which is worse. But one thing’s for sure. Next New Year’s Eve, I’m taking the stairs.