Get to Bed!

It’s currently 8:42pm on this fine Monday evening. I wish that I could say that everything is quiet but that is most certainly not the truth. I can hear three boys in the back being loud. Loud in the evening. Loud when they should be sleeping. Loud on a school night! Loud, when it almost an hour past their bedtime. All I can think about right now is “Ugh. Go to bed!”. They may be sweet angels when they are sleeping, but they are being a little bit devilish now. Oh how I do love them though. It’s a darn good thing they were made to be sooo cute!

“Go to bed boys!”, I yell back to their rooms.

It’s now 8:51pm.

I think I yelled a bit too loud. I can hear the baby starting to cry.

I’m sure that my wife is starting to wish that I would go to bed, just so that everything will be quiet out here. I hesitate to look over at her as she attends to the baby. I really don’t feel like seeing daggers come flying towards me from her eyes. At least the baby is back asleep. I can’t say the same for the other three boys.

When did the phrase “go to bed” lose its weight in this house?

The answer: A long time ago.


My Doctor Who Experience

Earlier this evening when I was about to enter into the grocery store a most peculiar thing happened. At the end of the row of carriages just outside of the store is a public payphone. Yes, they still exist with some of them still in operating condition. As I was about to go through the entrance I heard the sound of a phone ringing, not just any ordinary phone, but the payphone itself. What makes it weird is that I didn’t know that the payphone still worked and, doesn’t this only happen in movies or on television? I must have looked like quite the fool as I stood there listening to the sounds of the bringing bells coming forth from it, all awhile looking around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity. Normally I wouldn’t give too much thought about it, but for some reason the thought of why was it ringing and who was on the other end was just intriguing to pass up.

I only needed to walk twenty feet to the phone to find out what my imagination had started to come up with. What I eventually thought of just had to be what was really going to happen. I knew who it was going to be, and I knew why. The Doctor, last of the Time Lords, was the person on the other end of line, and that meant that somehow I was going to be a part of some wildly dangerous adventure through time and space. The Doctor, who uses a mid-twentieth century blue English police telephone call box which he refers to as the TARDIS, or Time and Relative Dimension in Space (it’s bigger on the inside), must have known somehow that trouble was about occur and that it was my help that he needed.

As I reached for the telephone receiver I began to anticipate  what was going to be the start of something extraordinary.

“Hello,” I said, waiting for the response on the other end.

Waiting for it.

Waiting for it.


“Is Brian there?”

It’s not the Doctor

“Sorry,” I say “wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry about that.”

It’s not for me.

“That’s okay.”

It’s not.

Heartbroken, I hang up the phone listening to the clink of the receiver on the hook, and I begin to walk back towards the grocery store’s entrance. What was I missing because it wasn’t the Doctor who called? I guess I’ll never know. Of course I do know that it was highly unlikely that a fictional character from a British television series would be calling for me, late at night, in America, on a public payphone. Yet, if there is one thing that I can say about this event, all true mind you, is that wishing for it to happen would certainly be a dream come true.

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