Coming home is always difficult for me because the driveway is normally littered with beer cans, toys, and broken appliances. Sometimes the occasional dead animal will be obscured by the knee-high weeds that grow from cracks in the concrete. These things are especially hard to avoid while under the influence! I must have been doing better than usual today because I only ran over one bicycle on the way to the garage.
The walkway leading up to the front door is equally treacherous because I never mow the lawn and the dog will only do it's business on the stone blocks. I hate that dog. Every time I come home it attacks me and I have to kick it in the rib cage two or three times before it backs off. The dog's yelp when I kick it is the only pleasure it brings to my life.
Upon entering the house, I was greeted with the usual tones of home. The aroma of dirty diapers and cat urine accentuated the over all haze of cigarette smoke and insecticide. The sounds of my wife shouting at the screaming children only subsided when she realized that I was home. Then she began shouting at me. The children, on the other hand, never stopped screaming. I never listen when my wife shouts at me. It's always some nonsense about bill collectors and/or foreclosure statements and blah blah blah! Today was no different. She was still shouting as I made my way over to the couch to continue drinking. I decided to hold off on letting her know about losing my job. The shouting was stressful enough, and the prospect of dodging flying kitchen utensils was too much to bear at this point. Best if I just get drunk enough to pass out until everyone goes to bed. Then I'll have the night to myself. Oh sweet night, my single solitary time of solace.
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