Today

And what did I do? Work a twelve hour day, then head home to keep going.

Situation Comedy

Sometimes my life somehow turns into a sitcom. Try to imagine a 25 year old chap, single, terrified of the very idea of marriage and children, somewhat obsessed with food, finding himself stuck with an eight year old girl and her infant brother on a Saturday night.

Our hero finds himself in this sorry situation by dint of a halfhearted and semi-reflexive offer to babysit when a friend complains about never being able to go out for dinner and drinks due to the presence of children, and the impossibility of locating a sitter on a Saturday night. Little did our protagonist know that the offer would be accepted. Clearly he does not know his friend that well after all.

So our friend gathers his wits where they have fallen after the surprising acceptance, and acquires a number of items to get through the night. He purchases a good deal of food, since kids all like food, right? Then he snatches up two DVDs, hot off the Netflix wagon, imprudently mixing idioms as he goes. And as a final touch, he confirms that the eight year old is fully capable of tending to the infant, and his role is merely to prevent the intervention of child services.

Armed with bags of items, our hero marches to his fate, confident that he is prepared. Little did he know what awaited him.

Dinner is made, and he is confident in the execution. Solid, reliable dishes that he knows how to make. Lamb shoulder cooked in white wine vinegar and spaghetti carbonara. The former is slowly cooked until tender and tangy in a blend of rosemary, anchovies, salt, garlic and vinegar. The latter is finished with raw eggs and the rendered fat of the bacon in place of cream. Both are good; he knows this. Alas, he does not know the tastes of children.

Apparently, eight year old girls do not enjoy lamb. To be more precise, they refuse to consume or even venture near lamb. Vinegar is also an effective deterrent against eight-year-olds. Raw eggs too find their place in the lineup of evil and offensive foods.

Desperate, our failed chef offers up pristine slices of aged prosciutto di Parma, but is derided for his poor taste in deigning to eat "raw" meat. Defeated, he must examine the larder and list the dishes he can conceive to create from the supplies at hand. After much negotiation, one suggestion finds favour. Buttered noodles.

Dried bowtie pasta is cooked in abundant water as salty as the sea, then drained and mixed with butter. If that sounds plain, perhaps that is because it is.

Having accomplished dinner in far more time that it should have taken, our hero hopes for a quiet progression of the remainder of the evening. The fates laugh.

Riotously.

After dealing with the needs of the infant, also reasonably described as quietly observing an eight year old child dealing with the needs of the infant, two discs of the first season of 24 are produced. Jack Bauer finds that he must make way for a remarkably unintelligent boardgame. A game where no decisions are ever made, barring how hard the dice should be thrown. A game where the penalties involve songs. A game which shall not be described in further detail.

The evening thus progresses in a painful time warp, where the seconds seem to slow, minutes dawdle and hours never arrive. Eventually, the eight year old falls asleep leaning on the arm of our hero. If this were truly a sitcom, perhaps our hero would be touched by the innocence of childhood. Instead, he becomes a bit annoyed as he contemplates the mechanics of moving an eight year old child from a sofa to a bed without waking her up. After a cry for help ensues, he alters his plan and subtly nudges the child awake to deal with the further needs of the infant.

Situation comedy rules stipulate that after an evening of interaction with children, the flintiest of hearts must be softened, and the desire for offspring must burst forth.

Our hero is tremendously relieved that his life is not, in truth, a sitcom.