Maybe itā€™s all these Bud Lights Iā€™ve been drinking, but this eclipse has my head spinning like a bald tire in a mud ditch. What if Lisa hates me? I love my wife so goddamn much I could fight a wolfman with a ping-pong paddle. And thatā€™s the thing of it, I suppose. My love for Lisa is like the Sun. I want to be with her more than anything in the worldā€”more than I want to win a boat in a boat raffle at a boat expo. But sheā€™s probably going to cheat on me, so maybe I should leave her first.

I mean, I donā€™t know sheā€™s planning on being unfaithful. Itā€™s just... why wouldnā€™t she? Right? My dad always told me Iā€™d grow up to be a worthless bag of old crab meat, and that turned out to be true. I am worthless, and even though Iā€™m not literally a bag of old crab meat, sometimes after work I smell like it.

But despite my being worthless and all, Lisaā€™s stuck by me. She supported me through all my business ventures, like the time I tried to sell vitamin drinks on the Facebook. So maybe sheā€™s not two-timing me. And maybe my thinking that she will is like the Moonā€”passing in front of the Sun, blocking the light of my love for her. Maybe the Moon represents my low self-esteem, or, at the very least, the vestiges of a deep-rooted misogyny thatā€™s been ritualistically handed down from father to son, from generation to generation. Maybe if I learn to love myself, I can accept Lisaā€™s love. Maybe then that darkness inside me can pass on by, like the shadow of the Moon.

Hell, Iā€™m no philosopher. Iā€™m just a son of a bitch staring at an eclipse.