In the famous words of Kaiser Wilhelm, "Yippee Whippy, Whippy!"
It’s August, ladies and gents, the pressure cooker month. Where and when I grew up, this time of the year was known simply as “I don’t care, I’m hot!” My mother would say something like, “underwear is not appropriate dinner table attire,” to which the rest of the family would respond by lamenting, “I don’t care, I’m hot!”
Or, she might say something like, “Cows are eating all my flowers,” to which I would respond, “I don’t care, I’m hot!”
My mom: “Buzzards are circling the driveway, and your little sister hasn’t been seen in a few hours.”
Me: “It’s hot!”
My mom: “The car was leaking oil…and it stalled…and I left it parked on the railroad crossing out front…and I couldn’t get your Star Wars figures out of the back.”
Me: “I don’t care, it’s…wait, is Yoda in there too?”
My mom: “The earth beneath us just split open and Satan’s minions are pouring out.”
Me: “So that’s why it’s so damn hot.”
Although, unlike some of those more normal types of people out there, I’ve refused to see the heat as an excuse to not do something. I prefer to see it as an opportunity to do nothing. The serious type of nothing we would all benefit from doing more of. You know, the tie a string, hook and sinker to your toe and dip it in the pond kind of nothing. The watermelon seed spitting contest from off the back porch kind of nothing. The string up a hammock and count seconds between pulses of lightning and strokes of thunder kind of nothing (if you routinely can’t count to one without being interrupted, what the hell are you doing in a hammock? You gotta death wish or something?)
So, to celebrate the heat, schedule something important…and then blow it off by doing something even more important…nothing. But for your celebration of “I don’t care, it’s hot!” month to be official, your nothing has to be intentional. You can’t wake up one day and accidentally do nothing. That’s just an excuse for being lazy. That’s like forgetting to add the vanilla flavoring to the icecream and calling it “plain.” Or leaving the milk on the counter overnight and calling it “buttermilk.” That ain’t gonna fly around these parts (not more than once anyway).
All it takes is a formal pronouncement. Around the table this evening offer something like this to the family: “Just so you know, if you ask me to help with something later on, I’m gonna be busy doing nothing. In the spirit of “I don’t care, it’s too hot” month, I invite you to join me. If not, Meh, no skin off my teeth.” If your family responds by waiving you off and saying, “Why should we care, it’s hot!” Then you know you’ve parented from a place of strength for which you can be proud. So go forth. Be hot. Do nothing. And don’t let anyone else get you down because of it. (What do those air-conditioned busy bodies know about doing nothing, anyway?)
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