When I came home from work the other day, the boys were making dinner. This sounds like a nice surprise, which it was.
For all of about five minutes.
I had just enough time to think, “Aww, how sweet-“, and then, this:
I just stop. This giant, glowing rectangle is on top of the T.V. It is bigger than the T.V. I instantly feel this overwhelming sense of dread that’s slowly turning into a mixture of disbelief and exasperation, because when I take a closer look:
Kelsey: What, is that?
Kelsey: It’s bigger than the T.V.
Doyle: And better than the T.V.
Kelsey: It’s not staying there.
Doyle: I think it is.
Kelsey: No, it’s not.
Doyle: I think it looks nice and is perfect for the living room. Right, Chris?
Dyck: I… I actually like the lighting from it.
Doyle: You’ve been outvoted. Two to one, it stays. This is a democracy.
I kept myself contained as much as possible.
We had dinner in the warm glow of the hideous Molson Canadian sign, which could probably be made into some sort of metaphor for how the rest of the year is going to go.
By that I mean that I’m going to have to be drunk.
Very, very drunk.
UPDATE: The Molson Canadian sign is no longer in the living room, but safely in the pantry where it will no longer burn the retinas of our unsuspecting guests. Surprisingly, getting it taken off the T.V. was more of a matter of politics than accidentally shattering it while cleaning. Now? Not necessary.
I’m actually a little disappointed about that, to be honest.
However, the day after the Molson Canadian sign died, I went into the bathroom and there was this:
I just left it. At least this thing doesn’t glow.