Captain's Log: Star date... Who Even Knows Anymore?
Today’s mission: Survive.
Status update: Coffee is empty. Soul... questionable.
I woke up to the sounds of what can only be described as a herd of wild elephants stampeding through the living room. Turns out, it was just my son and his two best friends, three preteen boys in their natural habitat: chaos. They’ve officially taken over my house. I’m starting to wonder if this is still my home or if I accidentally opened a summer camp for socks that have lost their purpose. Speaking of socks....how are they WET? It’s not raining. There are no spilled drinks (I think). I’m afraid to ask.
The air in the living room? Thick with the aroma of... old cheese. Not like aged brie fancy. More like "forgotten grilled cheese sandwich behind the couch" vibe. I tried cracking a window, but the stench fought back. I’m considering fumigating the house or, better yet, just moving.
Startup progress: I squeezed in an hour of work before being ambushed by a Nerf war and an enthusiastic debate about whether pizza counts as breakfast. (Spoiler, It does now.) Balancing being a single dad and an entrepreneur is like juggling flaming swords... while riding a unicycle... on a tightrope... with a toddler throwing fruit snacks at you.
Lunch consisted of me eating leftovers over the sink while simultaneously fielding a call from a potential investor and telling the boys to please stop sword-fighting with my laptop chargers.
Honestly? Despite the mess, noise, and inexplicable foot moisture, this is the stuff I’ll miss when they’re older. But also... WHY ARE THE SOCKS WET?!
End log. I’m off to buy more coffee and maybe a hazmat suit.
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