Today was my dear husband’s birthday. Want to guess how old he is? I’ll give you a hint: if you add the numbers
in his age together and divide by 3, you get 3.
So (x+y)/3=3. Of course, there
are several possible answers to this equation, and you have to consider other
factors to come up with the right one.
He spent most of his birthday working on a Very Important
Project. It is so very important, in
fact, that he’s been working on it six or seven days a week until all hours for
months now, because there’s an impending Critical Deadline.
The thing about corporate America is, those Very Important
Projects never seem so all-fired important to people who don’t work there. Nor do the Critical Deadlines appear to be
quite so life-or-death.
But when you’re (x+y)/3=3 years old, and your employer
demands that you work 60-80 hours per week because the impending Critical
Deadline has put your Very Important Project on the fast track and you are a
Key Player and nobody else can do what you do, and the paycheck from your
employer is what’s putting food on your table and soccer cleats on your kids’
feet, well, you do what you must.
It is nearly impossible to buy presents for my husband,
because everything that he wants that I would consider getting for him, he
already has. And things he wants but
doesn’t have tend to be out of consideration, by me anyway, like a 60’s era
Caddy convertible. Maybe next year,
So the girls each picked out a loud Hawaiian shirt for him,
because that, along with khaki cargo pants, is all he ever wears. Unless it is
summer, in which case he wears loud Hawaiian shirts and khaki cargo shorts. We took him to his favorite steak house for
dinner, and we ate too much, and he yakked with the wine steward. Then we walked around and looked at the boats
for sale on Lake Union.
We’re not buying one of those, either.
Now the girls are in bed, and he’s playing video games, as
he usually does when he’s not working. Happy
birthday, Technogeek. I’ll be up in a
few minutes to deliver your last present.