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Oh, what a lovely Wednesday. Woke around 7 and made my way upstairs to bed. That’s right, I wasn’t in bed. No, I hadn’t spent the night on the front, side or even the back lawn, though all are logical guesses based on my unrelenting obesity and ongoing disregard for healthy life choices. I decided a while back to sleep on the couch after it became evident that my snoring was causing the wife grief. I won’t bother to mention that her recent propensity for snoring was also causing me grief, because I’d feel obliged to also say that when she snores, I’d (gently) kick her (to an unprosecutable degree) until it stopped. I don’t need y’all thinking even less of me than y’all already do. And there I went saying all those things I wasn’t going to say. Comedy! ...

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For the second weekend in a row I spent my days fixing, or attempting to fix shit. Mostly succeeded except that damn air bag light in my car. In addition to being well known as a destroyer of chairs, I’ve also had quite the track record of breaking heads off bolts. That tradition continued today as I went to replace a crash sensor in the Corolla. Worked on that summa bitch for the next few hours but have to concede that what started as a Barnhardt project will be ending a Mester one for he has the tools and I, I just have a terrific neck and back ache. And so I drink. ...

And there it was – a singular fallen cookie. On display for all to see but no one’s buying it. Dropped there by a careless teen, no doubt. Those teens can’t do anything right. Not that I wouldn’t eat it. I would. I’d quite literally eat anything. I’d even eat a cookie dipped in ranch dressing if need be. By I’d even I mean I did and by if need be I mean unprovoked and it was yesterday and I showed everyone and it was HILARIOUS. ...

We’re the proud owners of a new piano. By new I mean real old. By real old, I mean it’s covered in dust, drywall spackling and scratches and one of the feet is busted up and being held together by electrical tape. I was told I should do something about the foot asap. No shit. I couldn’t help but stare down my smiling son and grinning wife and criticize the hell out of the piano and the decision of said wife to acquire it because, yeah, I need more shit to fix. ...

Went back to the doc’s office today to see if I could get away with not paying for parking again. I did. Also followed up on those X-rays. Turns out after 41 years of carrying this bloated Barnhardt head around I’ve got a touch of arthritis in there. I can deal with that. Seems like a good excuse to drink more. More honourable at least than previous drinking motivations which included “make snoring louder,” “taking stretch jeans to their limit” and “get dat change from dat bottle return” at the height of an ill-conceived rasta phase. ...

Someone didn’t make his breakfast oats last night. Someone had to Timmy’s it up this morning. Someone got to the right speaker after a muggle got to the left speaker but then made it to the pickup window first. Someone’s awesome! Someone’s terribly petty, but awesome. Dude came into the hardware store while I was browsing the light bulb aisle during my lunch hour. He walked in with music playing on his phone. Loudly. Without headphones. Like he was walking into a pool party at his cokehead brother Marty’s house and Marty, on account of the costly coke habit, couldn’t afford a stereo so he asked this guy to turn it up to 20. But this wasn’t Marty’s house – it was a public store. Hey, Goober, this ain’t the WWE and you don’t get no entrance music. Now go get that lumber to make a ramp for the needy disabled kids over at the orphanage, you fucking sack of shit. ...

Ah, pizza day at school. There’s a couple of these a month and it’s a sweet reprieve from the backbreaking obligation of microwaving soup for 2 minutes for my kid’s lunch. Sorry, toilet. That extra two minutes with my butthole while I pooped and web surfed was pizza’s fault, and not in the usual way pizza leads me to you. We still friends? Yeah? Ok, good. Eat shit and live, good buddy. ...

Went to Ottawa with the youngling over the weekend and Dave Barnhardted the hell out of it. You know what I’m talking about. Used reward points for the room, rental car and gas. Used a gift card for the DQ. Used a bathroom tug job for extra butter on my Leafs game popcorn. It was mostly a terrific time. Even the muscle burn from upwards of 38 minutes of low intensity old man skating felt good. Maybe I should exercise more. Or maybe I should vodka more. Tough call. ...

Went to the doctor’s today for a check up of the old neck which now aches on the regular. In the lot I decided I didn’t want to pay for parking, so I didn’t. Whisked myself to the front door past a silver-haired lady buying parking and a silver-haired man reversing his car about to erase her. I’d have turned around to see how that played out, but, you know… bad neck. ...