Real Men Dust

It's Saturday. Most of my friends will be watching sports or doing some type of sports-related activity. I will be doing some cleaning up around the house .. and liking it .. I am told.

This is the weekend before Thanksgiving (in case you have forgotten) and there is plenty to be done before number one son gets here on Wednesday (he is such a 'neat freak' and likes a place for everything and everything in its place).

Megan and Will won't be able to come home until Christmas .. ☹ .. which means I can give my undivided attention to Drew for two days (I'm sure he will be thrilled .. who wouldn't be?).

Chattanooga is only four hours away (it used to seem so far .. until number one daughter moved to North Carolina .. ☹), but Drew rarely makes it over in this direction. It could have something to do with the fact that I am always giving him advice and trying to tell him what to do (something any Hamilton really loves).

I don't mean to meddle. I just want him to be happy .. and this will only occur if he does exactly what I say. Why is that so difficult?

The problem is, I know this ticks him off (from the original Greek which literally means .. "ticks him off"), yet I continue to offer my opinion on everything from where he should buy gasoline to how he should cut his hair.

Part of this is genetic. My dad did .. and still does, on occasion .. this to me and I am simply trying to carry out a family tradition (btw, I tend to react the same way Drew does).

No one likes to be told what to do (this is especially true for me). However, we can usually learn a thing or two about ourselves that might help just a little bit in this journey called life.

Speaking of being told what to do .. I must go.

Evidently, there's a toilet with my name on it that needs cleaning.