I’m sitting on the back porch of my new rental house. We just moved in on Thursday and have been going through all of our one hundred bins of packed shit to see what we can/need to bring into the house. This place is much smaller than the duplex we just moved into and then out of. The duplex was a 3 bedroom, 2 bath, kitchen, dining room, living room and small back patio/yard. This house is a 2 bedroom, 1 bath, small kitchen, small breakfast nook, dining room, living room, two-car garage that can barely fit a car through the doors and a pretty nice sized back yard for the kids to play in. Which is what they are doing now and have been doing so since Friday.
This is what brought me to the flashback. I am sitting on the porch watching them play with a dodge ball-type ball. My oldest is repeatedly throwing the ball on top of the garage roof and letting it roll down. It reminded me of the two-car garage at my parents’ house. I would throw tennis balls, basket balls or any kind of ball, really, on top of the roof and try to catch it before it hit the ground.
Most days I would do it after getting home from elementary school and usually my dad wasn’t home. If he was, he’d be yelling through the kitchen window at me saying, “Hey boy, don’t be throwing the ball up on my roof! You are going to make it leak!”
I would always think to myself, especially when I got older, “How the hell am I going to make the roof leak with a freakin’ tennis ball or a rubber ball or even a basket ball?” If a tennis ball could trash our roof, what the hell would a big wind or thunder storm going to do to it?
Parents?!?! They are crazy some times. It's a good thing I'm one now to reset the status quo.
This is what brought me to the flashback. I am sitting on the porch watching them play with a dodge ball-type ball. My oldest is repeatedly throwing the ball on top of the garage roof and letting it roll down. It reminded me of the two-car garage at my parents’ house. I would throw tennis balls, basket balls or any kind of ball, really, on top of the roof and try to catch it before it hit the ground.
Most days I would do it after getting home from elementary school and usually my dad wasn’t home. If he was, he’d be yelling through the kitchen window at me saying, “Hey boy, don’t be throwing the ball up on my roof! You are going to make it leak!”
I would always think to myself, especially when I got older, “How the hell am I going to make the roof leak with a freakin’ tennis ball or a rubber ball or even a basket ball?” If a tennis ball could trash our roof, what the hell would a big wind or thunder storm going to do to it?
Parents?!?! They are crazy some times. It's a good thing I'm one now to reset the status quo.
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