Days These Days

March 26th, 2015

There’s an email going around in various versions describing a day in the life of a man of a certain age – let’s just say mine – since that’s the age of everybody sending it to me, and I’m certain everybody that age has days just like it.

I’m inspired to share my day, but first I have to find my glasses.

As published in The Daily News, March 27, 2015, and in The Memphis News, March 28-April 3, 2015

(photo: Putter explores the dishwasher.)

Putterwash Copy


I get lots of email about the kind of days friends are having these days – days like mine.

I need to write a column, but looking at a video on my phone of grandchildren splashing in the rain, I realize I also need to wash the snow-salt-sludge off my car.

I open the garage, walk out and turn on the hose. I notice mail in the mailbox and decide to take it in. I drop the car keys on top of the freezer next to the car since I’m going right back out there anyway.

That reminds me that I was thinking about cooking a steak and there’s one in the freezer that needs to thaw. I look in there and don’t see it right away so I take the mail inside. I can look for the steak later since I’m going right back out there anyway.

I drop the mail on the breakfast table and see my checkbook. Might as well pay the bills and mail them since I’m going right back out there anyway.

But first I’ll get the cereal bowls out of the way. I put them on the counter and open the dishwasher but I can’t tell if the stuff in it is clean or dirty. Nora’s not home so I decide to call her and see if she remembers whether or not we turned it on the night before, but I think I left my phone upstairs. If I’m going up there, might as well take the checkbook and the bills up to my office and pay them there. As I start to return to the table, I see the empty cereal box on the counter and open the door under the sink where the trash can lives. It’s full, so I take the bag out and put it on the floor. I’ll take it out to the garbage can in just a sec since I’m going right back out there anyway.

I get to the top of the stairs and realize I don’t have the checkbook or the bills, and that’s okay because I realize I don’t have my glasses either and I’m pretty sure they’re downstairs in the living room with the paper. Didn’t see my glasses but I did see the dogs through the kitchen door. One had busted open the garbage piñata on the floor and the other was standing in the open door of the dishwasher licking the plates.

That’s when Nora came home and asked how long the garage door had been open, why the hose was flooding the driveway, and what was my phone doing on top of the hose wheel?

No car or cereal bowls washed. No steak thawed. No bills paid. No garbage taken out. My glasses were in Nora’s purse. We haven’t found hers. It took me the rest of the day and some of the next to find my keys behind the freezer.

I’m a Memphian, and just life these days is a column.


I'm a Memphian by Dan Conaway

If you don’t read it, I’ll read it to you.

The book is available in print online and all over town and now in audio online at Amazon, Audible and iTunes, read by the author – columns, comments and character references for a city filled with it and often absolutely full of it. Take a look or a listen.



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