by Robert Adcox
Everyone has a weekend routine. For some, it involves washing dishes before starting the day. For others, playing Hearts online and catching up on email is the way to go. For most, weekend routines have certain common threads, such as paying bills and dusting the furniture. As a guy with a Bipolar disorder, my routine is a bit unconventional – and I wouldn’t have it any other way…
9:07 AM – Awaken to drill sergeant alarm clock. Get dressed and be outside in five minutes before remembering that I’m not at Lackland AFB anymore. Why does my alarm clock keep calling me a dirtball?
9:24 – Watch the news. This consists of four people screaming at one another across a big table. Watch images of people throwing bottles in Syria. Make mental note to book cheap hotel fare there if democracy ever takes root.
10:19 – Brush teeth and take shower. Observe that my conditioner reinforces my narcissism. What in the world is “Body Boost”?
11:17 – Tailgated by lady who seems infatuated by rear bumper of my Accord. Either that or she loves my conditioner. Swing by nearby burger joint for two hamburgers (no onions). Wonder why they ask if I want fries with that. Everyone wants fries with that.
11:43 – Finish hamburger joint’s finest with large order of fries. The First Lady ain’t gonna like THAT! Head over to the nearest car wash. Begin by excavating approximately 22,007 fast food bags from back seat. Observe that the french fry wedged between the driver’s seat and the console since 1998 is somehow still in perfect condition.
11:51 – Get into hand-to-hand combat with wasp that snuck through the open door while cleaning the interior. While he circles me, I quickly close with him. It’s stinger versus vacuum cleaner in a fight to the death. Epic battle ensues. 25 cent high velocity suction prevails, but I am spent.
12:28 pm – Car is now polished to a proud show car-glistening shine. Observe car over in the next bay undergoing bodywork. Think about the Charger I once owned. Muse about its many shades of primer, flat black, and body filler. For some reason I recall seeing a piece by Piet Mondrian on a black-and-white Zenith TV we had when I was nine.
5:40 pm – Head over to supermarket. Spend seven minutes patrolling lot for parking space. Find one, only to be cut off at last second by family of six plus English Bulldog. Bulldogs always win in these conditions. Always.
6:38 pm – Fire up the computer and watch Dragnet on Hulu. Jack Webb is crazy: every time I watch this episode, he arrests the same people. Eat cheap chili; revel in knowing where to get nutritious food. Be thankful to God.
9:47 pm – Finish watching really bad movie on Netflix because I can. Seems there’s a sequel to Ishtar and it has English subtitles. Eat Skor bar, which was lilely costlier than the budget of the movie.
10:19 pm -Turn TV on. See an ad urging me to “CALL NOW!” I do! Neither of us knows what to say next. I wasn’t properly prepared to carry on any conversation once I “CALL NOW!” Rose guides me through the process. Because I wasn’t pregnant between 1981 and 1996, I won’t be getting a settlement.
11:15 pm – Check Facebook comments. Everyone else has gone to bed. I’m still psyched from the free Ishtar sequel. Or maybe it’s the Seroquel.
1-whatever-it-is AM – Fall asleep, thereby waking with a start from falling asleep so quickly. Soon, I dream of Drill Sergeant Bill calling me a dirtball again. I know he doesn’t really mean anything by it.
I wouldn’t trade my life, unconventional as it is, for the world.