My Own Personal Moon Landing

I did it. It’s been three days since I’ve showered but I did it. At two fifty-seven this afternoon I walked all the way up my driveway and out in to the wilds of my cul-de-sac. Brisk pre-breakfast walk accomplished! What changed? I can’t say for sure. Maybe it was my dream in which I cut an evil chef into shreds with my hand-forged sword. No, I think that was just too much late night food network. Maybe it was the tepid weather. No, my iPhone clearly told me it was only thirty-four degrees outside, and I was set on surmounting this task long before I found the day to be much milder. If anything, the ugly truth that my iPhone can be wrong should have shaken my confidence to the core, but somehow I persevered. Perhaps then it is the swelling of pride I feel knowing that I am a syndicated columnist at the famed Sub-Cranial Cavern. It is hard to believe I am sitting at the desk where so many greats sat before me. Woodward and Bernstein from the Post, CNN’s sassy vixen Christiana Amanpour and Franz Hinkel of the Deutsche Auslander Zeitgeist though I still feel uneasy about his prize winning article “I was on vacation from 1939-45.” Is it the big shoes I have to fill that makes me stand up and say “No, I won’t drive an hour and a half round trip to Delaware to lift some boxes of office files into my girlfriend’s car because she can do it herself for once but she has no regard for my time because I wake up at three in the afternoon and am unemployed.” Perhaps. Is it that same little voice that says “No, I won’t go another day without bathing because it is disheartening to me and makes me want to further seclude myself which I know is antisocial behavior and not good in the eyes of David Burns, the author of a book on treating depression that I bought and never read because every time I pick it up I relive the really embarrassing moment when I bought the book at Barnes and Noble because I could see that look in the cashier’s eyes like “you don’t know how to manage your own life problems and you don’t even have any yet you call yourself a man” and then she thinks to herself “I’ve been working since I was sixteen after my uncle killed my whole family and I was forced to quit school and give up my dreams of being a neurosurgeon so that I could support my three year old sister who survived the barrage of bullets but is a vegetable and breathes through a straw and I never had to buy a self help book” and then she hands me the bag and says “Pussy” and I say “Excuse me?” and she says “Have a nice day.” Well big shoes to fill or not… this reporter is about to take a shower that he, and everyone around him, has wanted for a long time.< /span>