A few weeks into 2020, I bought myself a corgi and named him Tugboat after my five-year-old niece used the tactic of, “if you love me, you’ll let me name your dog.” Elsa was he first choice and when I told her it was a boy, she told me that boys can be named Elsa too; very progressive. Even with that argument, I wasn’t about to name my dog Elsa, so I told her to give me three names and I’ll pick the one I liked the best. She immediately threw out, Dump Truck, Tugboat, and Elsa because in her mind, the first two names were so stupid, only an idiot would pick the name Tugboat. Kids are stupid sometimes…
Two days after getting Tugboat the world pretty much ended. I don’t think one had anything to do with the other, but given the dumpster fire that was 2020, it would be folly to rule anything out as being impossible.
How could I come to such a stupid theory? Let me explain.
I’m fairly confident that it takes a pretty substantial amount of divine intervention to keep me alive. I make a lot of dumb decisions in life that require A LOT of divine intervention. When you add another living thing to an already over taxed system, it makes sense that things would start to fall apart in other parts of the system, like say keeping pandemics from ravaging the world. I realize that that is an insanely arrogant theory, but given this is my blog and therefore I am the main character of this story—Tugboat might take that title eventually—it makes this theory a little less ridiculous.
If Tugboat and I were responsible for causing the dumpster fire of 2020, hopefully recounting some of our odd adventurous so far will make up for it in some small way. So here we go….