What do you do when it’s Father’s Day, a light year from payday, and 99 degrees outside?
You sit inside and watch movies. I nabbed a handful of movies on Netflix (including both Brian’s Songs), sprung for two 2-liter bottles of Walmart’s answer to Coke Zero, and banished any expectation of restraint against constant snack grazing for 24 hours.
Halfway through Robocop (circa 2014, with half the violence and also Abbie Cornish) I considered this trip called fatherhood. Fresh off a visit to my dad’s grave sit by the mimosa tree and a treasure trove of gifts and handmade cards from my girls.
I spent Father’s Day much the same way I spent Christmas – sick on the couch.
But unlike Christmas, I had the World Cup to occupy my waking hours. Jesus is just all right and all, but a month of soccer? It was just what the doctor ordered between whooping coughs and snotty noses. Even Jesus could get behind this.
Elise, as she did last time, got sick at just the same time I did.
This time, we could binge on soccer matches. Last time, it was a marathon session on Bones, season 1. I took a course from Dr. Kathy Reichs at UNC Charlotte. I saw things that haunt me to this day. She’d show up slides while she ate a sandwich.