Before you leave for Houston to help your brother move, you explain to your daughter that this trip means you won’t be able to make the parent meeting with her coach on Saturday morning. And that sucks, because her mom has to work at the same time, so neither of her parents will be there. And she tries to hide her disappointment and act like it’s not a big deal, but you know your daughter, and you know it is. But it can’t be helped.
So you drive to Houston, and juggle conference calls on the way. And as you approach, your brother asks you to stop and pick him up a can of something called “Copenhagen wintergreen longcut”. And you’re like “What am I, a trucker? Should I purchase an issue of Juggs magazine while I’m at it?” And you don’t pick it up, because the idea that a disinterested gas station attendant might think for even a moment that you’re remotely interested in this product is more than you can bear.
And then you arrive, and you realize that this whole moving task is so much more massive than you anticipated. And you’re the only dude who showed up to help in the August heat. And you may not survive, much less make the dinner date you planned with your buddies at Underbelly later that night.
And while lifting the very first large piece of furniture, he tells you to lift with your legs. But you don’t need your little brother to tell you how to move a freaking dresser. So you lift it your way, and you strain your back, and you totally deserve the discomfort you feel for the rest of the day because you’re a hardheaded asshole.
And as the day wears on, you wonder why you neglected to include your brother in the invitation to dinner. And so you do. And in a gesture that you view as a pure formality, you ask your buddies if it’s cool for him to join you. And you expect nothing but an unqualified “yes”, because those are the Goddamn rules in civil society.
But some of your buddies apparently don’t know the rules of civil society. And while one agrees immediately, not all of them do. A second buddy agrees, but also gives you a mini-lecture on how you really need to try to put more effort into nurturing your friendships the way you’re currently nurturing your relationship with your brother – thereby broadcasting his implied disagreement. And a third buddy who has never met your brother disagrees outright, and wants to know whether your brother is cool and personable, or a buck-toothed moron. And a fourth buddy is silent.
And the first buddy who immediately agreed tries to explain that you had to expect the response from the second buddy, and that the third buddy’s behavior was a lame attempt at a joke, and you should just shake it off. And maybe you’re blowing things out of proportion because you’re hot and tired and cranky (it certainly isn’t the first time you’ve done so, and won’t be the last). Or maybe all of this was as absurd and impolite and insulting as you think it was. But either way, you wonder why you’re trying to eat dinner with these people at all.
So you don’t. And instead, you eat a takeout dinner with your niece and nephew. And it’s delightful. And you keep working into the night, until at some point you realize that all the lifting and carrying is done. And though he could use your help unpacking or whatever, your brother doesn’t absolutely *need* you anymore. Which means that, if you leave now, you could be back to Fort Worth by 2:30AM. And that means you’d be able to make the meeting with your daughter’s coach in the morning.
And as you climb into your car to drive back home in the middle of the night, you understand that there are ways in which you’re not exactly sane. But you’re okay with that, because you kinda dig your brand of crazy.