How I got here ... I think

I’m back! Did you miss me? I know I’ve missed me … the last few months are a blur to me; and not in the good way. It’s December so I’m pretty sure that October and November happened, but I couldn’t testify to it under oath because I really don’t remember much about it.

To be honest when I look back on 2013, I feel very much like Ebenezer Scrooge waking up and discovering that it was Christmas morning and he still had a chance to do things right. The whole year whizzed by in such a bizarre mix of comedy and tragedy that I’m not sure what really happened and I haven’t even been drinking … much.

Just to set the record straight, I’ll go over some of the unusual events I remember from this year and we’ll separate the real from the imagined (I wrote that last phrase using my best Rod Serling impression.)

I have a distinct memory of working all or part of 27 straight weekends; real or imagined? As unlikely as it seems, that’s real! If a world-class slacker like me works more than half of the weekends in a single year is it any wonder that the boundaries of reality get a bit blurred? Next you’re going to try to tell me Pam Anderson isn’t a natural D cup … the world’s gone mad!

In March of 2013, Bob Saget was forced to take a job as a greeter at a Southern California Wal-Mart where his talent for witty banter was finally fully appreciated; real or imagined? I can’t say for sure but I’m pretty sure I imagined that — that’s just silly, nobody appreciates Bob Saget’s banter.

My wife really did finally admit that she didn’t appreciate my witty banter anymore and asked me for a divorce. Imagine that.

In July I weighed 220 pounds and my lower back hurt; as I write this I tip the scales at 170 pounds and I feel great; real or imagined? I have a closet full of pants that don’t fit that say it’s real enough. Apparently I don’t like my own cooking as much as I did hers. I’ll pass on the joke about the pain disappearing from my lower back, it’s too obvious and, after all, I’m not Bob Saget.

The Red Sox won the World Series; real or imagined? They tell me it’s real and I have to believe it because even I couldn’t imagine something as ridiculous as that.

Congress finally passed a bipartisan budget that slashed the deficit while cutting taxes ... oh never mind ... I couldn’t even finish that bluff!

Half the country actually cared about the gender and name of the illegitimate offspring of a Kardashian while the other half is actually concerned about the political opinion of a Duck Commander dude; real or imagined? Only in America could that be real and, sadly, it is.

I paid $184 to spend a Wednesday night in a La Quinta Inn in Pecos, Texas; real or imagined? Of course it’s real ... why would anybody imagine spending $184 to spend a Wednesday night in a La Quinta Inn in Pecos, Texas?

My wife realized that, despite years of speculating to the contrary, she actually could do worse and our marriage was saved; real or imagined? The part about our marriage being reconciled was real … I imagined the part about her being able to do worse.

Despite making a mortgage payment on a beautiful home for over a dozen years, I paid rent on a townhouse in Florida for most of the year, slept in a friend’s spare room for over a month, crashed in another friends toy hauler in sub-zero weather and now I’m sleeping on a broken down old mattress in a spare room in my own house; real or imagined? Imagined — sheesh — who would be that stupid? Really.

So to recap; in the last year I worked long hours, lost 50 pounds and a wife, lived semi-homeless for several months (all the while making a house payment), then left Florida in the dead of winter to drive across country into a winter storm, paid to sleep in Texas, recaptured marital bliss and woke up this morning in my daughter’s old room while she and her dog slept in the master suite on my king sized bed.

I’m excited about the New Year, not because I have great expectations for 2014, but because 2013 wore me out ... I think.

Welcome back, Rick. Rick Seley is an award-winning humor columnist.