So tomorrow we are having a siiiiiiiiicccckkk party at our house. Like at least 60 people are going to be here. C&C turned our garage into a cigar bar, our backyard into a BBQ and our house into a lounge. It's going to be a sweet party. One of our friends is turning 30, so all hands are on deck so to speak to get everything together for the shendig.
I havr mixed feelings about this thing. I have to be at work at SIX THIRTY Sunday morning. Which sucks because I was looking forward to this party like all year!! Plus, I won't get to hang with my friends like I wanted to. Oh well. Welcome to responsibility I guess.
And I talked to my mom. Evindently, my dad has COPD which is a lung disease that smokers get. It kind of sucks. I am thinking about this party right now and I think of my parents and I see that when my parents were this age partying every night they never thought that it would actually inhibit or kill them. I mean, who thinks that when they are in their twenties?
My dad probably didn't think that smoking would make him sick and unable to breathe. My mom never thought that overeating every day would make her so sick. They were killing themselves. Which more than likely, my friends will not be doing. I'm just saying. It made me think. And earlier we were putting some bottles of alcohol on the "bar" and my friend brought out a fifth of Jim Beam. It made me think of my dad. And all I saw him drink growing up. Even lately. It's just wierd sometimes how much seeing something from your painful past can trigger an emotional reaction.
At the sight of that bottle, I lost my breath. Yeah. I'm not kidding. I really just couldn't find my breath for a second. And I felt an emotional "I'm getting ready to bawl my eyes out" lump in my throat. Wierd.