It’s been a while since our columnist could devote himself to household chores without distraction. Is this where true happiness lies?
An epitome is a fragment from a larger work Photo: Pond5 Images/image
On Saturday (!) my wife went to “train” for five days (!) in the Mediterranean (!). I packed a car, loaded the kids and drove to friends in the countryside in the rationally liberated zone. While enjoying grilled food and Kbraken asparagus, I was informed about the situation in the enchanting blooming landscape around us. After the latest revelations, the incitement curve in the rural town has flattened somewhat; until the Russian finally returns.
On the way home on Sunday I stopped at two requestsMCDonald‘S. The natives stood at the front, the newcomers behind the counter. Not having to work and being able to look down on others – is that happiness? Or maybe the power of virtual wealth is ultimately anti-fascism’s strongest menu item, I muttered to myself as I stole a few gold nuggets from the kids.
After dropping them off at their facilities, I was actually free on Monday. I did laundry and general tidying up. It was very nice to muddle through the apartment alone without outside obligations, even if only for a few hours, but also unusual – When was the last time I had that?two years ago?
When there were no more Lego blocks or rubber ducks on the floor, I lay down on the couch, grabbed a book and immediately fell asleep. When I woke up at lunchtime, I reheated the leftover pasta from the night before, which I had scraped from the children’s plates, in the pan. I drank a glass of white wine with it, because for me drinking alcohol during the day is the epitome of being free.
Finally relaxing time for everything
With an espresso afterwards I was fit enough to devote myself to reading seriously, but immediately got stuck on the word ‘epitomator’, which I had never heard of before. The author of an epitome is called an epitomator, my cell phone informed me, even though I secretly expected my book to complain to me like my two-year-old son: “Daddy, cell phone away!”
An example, I read further, is a summary of a larger work. I let it go, it was already 3pm. Finally it was time relaxing timegoing to the nursery, driving with the son to the daughter’s school, taking her to instrument lessons, making fun of the waiting time on the playground, driving home, cooking, bathing, changing diapers, analyzing the developments of the group of friends with the daughter, and so forth.
Maybe, I thought, I also need an embodiment for my biography as an executive’s partner. But that reminded me of the fairy tale in which a boy receives a magical box with a string from the evil fairy. When he gets bored, he pulls the string and time passes. In the end, he quickly becomes an old man, regrets everything and is given a second chance by the good fairy – a fairy tale.
My wife returned on Wednesday evening. The children were asleep, everyone was reasonably healthy, the next morning it was a holiday and Father’s Day and I was allowed to go to the editorial office for adult work. That’s lucky, I thought, and when the paper came out, I wrote my column.
Epitomes