the first to suspect something was the teacher of my daughter.
I dismissed with a tender "
now let go of the father, who must have to work " but meant "
I do not fool me, beautiful .
my behavior actually gave a little 'eye lately.
here all the kids give up on the fly, literally catapult them down from their SUV double parked and greeted them from behind the tinted windows, and probably already talking with the office or planning meetings with clients.
I, instead, I got into the habit of walking a bit 'with her, hand in hand up in front of school. and to accompany her on the first floor, where there is its class.
I know that in a few years will be left as far as possible and get to school without a dad. let's say, for now, I decided to take advantage of its availability. to the point that I fear it is obvious in the morning as I did not in any hurry to go away from this school.
live a kind of chaos calm, while the other parents still seem tarantolati by
and fever return after a long summer, they return to their
9 to 5 regular season. for me once was.
my life was marked by hours of my office, a huge building, able to swallow and rivers badge stamping stimbrano, a place to get a daily pilgrimage in which the most difficult work is not going to work but
to work.
a goal to cut every morning, joined the company, a non-place where to stay
download barrels up to the sacred moment of time out, a real big-bang "of the rest of our lives": returns from their families, you go to the gym, you shop, you burn salaries in strange ways.
only Now that my office is gone. beginning I did not care.
I thought that after a while ', would return.
happens to everyone to pass the difficult times and not be there anymore with his head.
him as
office, and there was no longer enough.
the first few days were great fun.
hot water of late summer, deserted beach, magpie wedge transfers.
then came back to take the child to school, to shop, to piss the dog as if nothing had happened.
even if the taste of salt on the skin reminded me of my infidelity daily.
because the real problem with this double life is
that I can not tell the family that my office is gone.
too many questions, too many requests for explanations, the real risk of reversing the precarious balance on which you based the entire microcosm of our physical.
idem with friends. no one would understand
really, no.
and immediately take envy and jealousy, "
and how you still get the collection of salary at the end of the month? "
"
bho do not know, I get just .
naaah, I've thought and thought, I do not believe anyone.
also neighbors, imagine what they might think.
better hiding.
so in the morning I put a jacket and tie, I say good morning and good evening and fake a minimum of delay. but already on the stairs of the house I find myself humming the songs of cartoons with my daughter.
she is the only one that does not make me questions. the only truly carefree as me. I would say to her: it could be great spending time together at the park or the movies or eating junk food from McDonald's and fooling around. but I fear that it would be very educational, and carry it to school.
then step into the office, I see
that the office is not (check every morning, because you never know), and my day begins.
like everyone else, I try to get away from traffic.
while others go toward the center, I'm going out of town, looking for shopping malls, my biggest allies, ideal places in which mingle in the crowd and disappear.
sure, I run the real risk of meeting someone because, nowadays, people seem out of the house only to go to department stores (when I want to meet old classmates, tired and with children, I usually go there). but in the case of close encounters, I can always tell that I am there for work: to
a display, a layout, a merchandiser, a positioning or what the fuck (sometimes I think that I am already here I might as well take me back and shopping, but I think with the cart full wake up more than one suspect - the story I'm working on).
and then in the morning sti seats are filled pussy, digiamolo.
chick who just brought their children to school, which must go and return, the brats that gave them to the cart and he must also think about how to feed her husband in the evening. but still
pussy.
or, if women do not want to see not even half, I can go to
mediaworld where, together with other addicts, we can study all cell phone, hear the voices of tom tom, tingle with the home theater, on the fundamental diquisire difference between hd ready and full hd, ps3 play or try to exit the screen saver password of the few mac on display.
short, these are real
cemeteries of wasted time. mausoleums "
I have nothing to do, then come here .
gallows on which to conduct the hours that I divide it from returning home and shot one after the other, without mercy . always having fun like crazy (never was more precise definition), that is.
by
decathlon because I feel like a child at Gardaland: I wander through those corridors a bit 'skinny (as in the style of the brand) and I guess destroyed the finish line of a marathon, 20 meters underwater chased by a shark, the second serve and volley ball, perfect tee-shot at the flag "and many other sports that I would practice (if only I had time, ha ha).
by
castorama , then, I want to disassemble the house, laminate floors, clean up the facade, demolish the kitchen wall and do an open-space.
I usually go out of there dead tired, just in time for lunch. and here I'll be spoiled for choice: Chinese, Japanese, roll right, with happy meal doll, Spizzico, hello, motorway service stations. and for once I also want the menu with candy and lottery tickets (which are fed every day to tell you not), because a little 'of millions
I needed to change their lives and stop working.
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