Exploding Unicorn by James Breakwell

Upgrade to paid to play voiceover I knew from the year that it had to be a scam. The date on the invitation, mass-texted to half of our suburb in a spam against humanity, congratulated the Class of 2034 on the start of school. That’s not a real year. It’s in the distant future, when we’ll go to the moon in flying cars and not just slam into it with leftover rockets for no reason. Then I realized the invitation was for my youngest daughter, Waffle.

With one kid driving, our transportation plan has gotten more complicated, not less.

What’s something you do that, while actually an act of leisure, makes you feel incredibly productive? For me, it’s catching up on the things I watch. I subscribe to a bunch of sports packages. If I watch all of that week’s games, I feel as good as if I cleaned the whole house. That’s nothing compared to when I finish a TV series. That’s basically as good as doing a full weekend of yard work. What do you do that feels like an achievement, even if it’s just a fancier way to waste time?

Maybe the weekend is cursed. Maybe we’re just getting old. At my age, it’s hard to tell the difference. For years, almost dying at the end of July was my thing. My college friends, Rocco and Phoebe, host an adults-only getaway at their lake cottage once a summer in Wisconsin. Two years in a row, I missed for medical emergencies. First, my appendix exploded, sending me on an adventure that started with septic shock and ended with C. diff. I was lucky it burst before the trip rather than during it.

Upgrade to paid to play voiceover Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me four times, you must make video games. I’m about to win the quadruple crown of being a sucker. I first bought the Xbox game Halo: Combat Evolved in college. By then, the console had been out for a few years. I was late to the party, but I made it the biggest party possible. Think four TVs and sixteen friends, or friend-adjacent acquaintances. You can’t expect me to actually find a double digit number of people who like me.

She’s achieved the part where she eats corn on the cob every day. I’m scared to see what comes next.

You’ve heard my saga of procrastination and woe. How are you at keeping your vehicle clean? Do you lovingly wash it by hand in your driveway, take it through an automatic car wash every once in a while, or never even bother? Option three is always a good choice. What about the inside? Do you keep it clean, or do you just figure what the outside world can’t see won’t hurt it? Tinted windows are a huge time saver. What kind of a car owner are you? Sound off in the comments.

It was the most important thing I had to do. That’s why I worked so hard not to do it. I promised myself that I would clean my van as soon as I had a weekend where it wasn’t too hot outside. That seemed like a safe bet. We’re deep in July. Things weren’t expected to cool down in August, or ever. It was the only time I’ve ever rooted for climate change. I figured that, by the time the weather was actually pleasant outside, I would either forget or be dead.

Upgrade to paid to play voiceover School. That six-letter word drives fear into the heart of even the stoutest child. It’s always lurking just around the corner and never really goes away. I’m forty-one, and I still occasionally have nightmares about failing a class I forgot I signed up for. When I wake up, I have to reassure myself that it’s not possible to retroactively flunk out of college. Then again, I haven’t kept up with recent law changes.

I absolutely cannot handle the truth.