None of my shorts have pockets.
Not the pair of Nikes I got from my grandparents last Christmas, not the neon yellow ones (that don’t match any of my shirts), not the all-black pair I got from Goodwill for a 2014 Halloween party. I scored a few pairs of University of Michigan Adidas shorts when the school switched over to Air Jordan brand. Guess what? No pockets. Where am I supposed to put my wallet, iPhone, and keys when I need to go to the store?
I’m starting to think someone is out to get me!
Come to think of it, my life has been a real pain these past few months. Whenever I ride my bike, which my in-laws bought me last year, I always have to slow down when I hit cross-streets to avoid oncoming cars. It messes with the workout timing on my generation 3 Apple watch! Why can’t I live in an area where there are bike paths that don’t involve cross-streets?!
A couple weeks ago I started a new job and went to D.C. with my new team. As I was sitting around the conference room, watching planes fly over the Capitol building, I realized, I’m the only guy on this team. It’s me and six other women. I have nobody to relate to, nobody to banter about sports with, no bros to deliver sick handshakes to! I about had a panic attack right there at that mahogany table. Can you even imagine the feeling?
My troubles have followed me home.
Every morning when I get in the shower, I look up at the metal curtain rings, and wouldn’t you know it, one or two of those suckers has always popped open! I have to physically lift my arm up—the very arm that was asleep mere minutes ago—and close them. It’s more pleasing to the eye this way! Where did these rings come from, Target?
To make my mornings worse, sometimes our remote-control garage opener won’t work, and I have to press the damn thing twice or even three times, God help me, to get the garage fully open. There have even been a couple of days where I have to physically walk outside (our garage isn’t connected to our house, perish the thought) and unlock the side door by hand.
This morning I got into my car to drive to work, plugged in my phone, and—I can scarcely bear to type these words—it didn’t connect to the car’s speaker system. I had to drive the ENTIRE twenty minutes to work listening to NPR and radio stations with commercials. Now I have to go back to my Bluetooth auxiliary plug-in that needs a charge every weekend. Thankfully it takes the same charger as my Kindle Paperwhite, but seriously—between that, my laptop, AirPods and phone, it’s like a freaking part-time job keeping track of all these charges!
I’d probably be even more upset about all of this if I had the energy; my baby daughter has been keeping me up all hours of the night with her selfish crying and grunting, so I don’t have the wherewithal to get too riled up. Sometimes she’s up every couple of hours, just moaning and wailing! She’s five months old, weighs sixteen pounds, and gives zero you-know-whats about her parents’ well-being. When you’re a parent, the concept of “original sin” is not a difficult one to grasp.
Alas, I know my life is difficult, even torturous. But I’m sure I’ll find a way to get through these difficulties one way or another. Remember the saying: “Be kind, for everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” Some of us have more difficult battles than others.
P.S. Please consider donating to my Kickstarter.
Matt Cambridge (’12) is a new dad to Chloe, husband to the beautiful Kendahl, and a human resources professional at Boeing. He lives in St. Louis and enjoys eating Hershey’s kisses, riding roller coasters, and watching the latest stand-up specials on Netflix. You can read more of his work at laughcrythink.com.