Anywhere But Here

Thursday afternoons are the worst. Simon can barely muster enough energy to put the kettle on let alone tend to the baby and the dog. Alex was teething now and a constant screaming, drooling, cacophonous ball of anguish. The dog on the other hand has finally reached his senior years and sleeps and farts 21 hours a day. Four days into the week with a day and a half to go and inevitably Simon falls apart, like clockwork. It's been five months of full time stay at home single parenting and Simon can't remember how he ever imagined this would make him happy or keep him fulfilled. He is the only stay at home dad for miles round, a complete anomaly in his sleepy suburban bedroom community. It's terrifically lonely. The yummy mummies ostracize him and the Filipino nannies and young British and Belgian Au Pairs don't even acknowledge his existence in the playground. Su wanted to stay home but she makes a full 45% more than Simon and her benefits are ridiculous. It only made sense for Simon to give up his career; he was aging out anyway. Advertising is a young man's game. If you're 38 and haven't made director, you're on your way out. Or at least, you should be. Alex provided the perfect escape hatch. Although it's Thursday afternoons that have him longing for his old life. Simon would give anything to be back in the room pitching, spitballing and rebranding, the old joust and parry with the gang instead of cleaning up after a barfy infant and geriatric, flatulent Retriever. He'd been dabbling lately with online gambling. Too much time on Missed Connections. He missed his freedom. Little things- being able to sleep in, eat when and what he wanted to, take off on spontaneous road trips, drink himself silly, have lazy three hour lunches with creative peers talking about absolutely nothing related to breeding and RESP's; Hell, Simon wanted to date his wife like he used to. He loved his son, he did; but Thursday afternoons Simon really wished he was somewhere else. Anywhere but here. 

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