Thanks to the ongoing renovations, my weekend was, predictably, one of painting walls, but no panting, just getting paint on pants, which people took great pains to point out, but I pointed out that they were painting pants so there was no point pointing out something as paltry as paint on pants, which for the greater part (and this is my point) is their purpose.

Yeah.

Once all the paint has been painted, then, well, remember that hole that I had to dig and then undig and then un-undig it again. Well, now I have to, predictably, un-un-undig the damn hole because the plumber forgot to do something. Then I will need to re-re-dig it again.

It's almost like god wants me to dig holes. And I will spend my whole life digging holes until, in a cruel twist of fate, I realise that the final hole I dug was actually my own, and in that instant of realisation, I will clutch at my heart, and then collapse and fall into my own hard-earned blackness.

Because Jesus likes irony.

But He doesn't like ironing. He gets his mom to do that for him.

Because that's what Mum's (and wives) are for.

Yeah.

We did manage to get away from the house and kids on Saturday night though and go to a cousin's engagement/housewarming party with my parents and brothers.

My dad and I wore our cowboy hats.

People asked where our horses were, which was just silly, because horses are too big to fit in cars, and even if they could, you couldn't really get a seatbelt around them, so it wasn't like we could bring them with us.

I caught up with one of my double cousins.

Genetically, we're the closest thing you can be without being brothers.

We used to fight like brothers growing up.

My mama used to say that was because we were so alike.

My cousin used to say that was because he asked me once whether an electric fence was turned on and I lied and said “no” and he didn't find out that I was lying until he had a testicle perched either side of the electrified wire.

Ahhhh, good times, good times.

But he did piss me off that time he broke my watch.
With his teeth.

Anyway.

Growing up, there always used to be this competition to see who had grown the tallest.

I won by several inches.

Catching up these days, things haven't really changed that much.

Except the competition is about who weights the least.

I'm winning that one too.

Rock. On.

We're about equal on the hair front, though…