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They say that a solid plan is the key to a successful weekend. I am here to tell you that "they" are entirely wrong. If there is one thing this past weekend taught me, it’s that a schedule is merely a suggestion that the universe will gleefully ignore. Grab a coffee, settle in, and let me walk you through a weekend of bureaucratic hurdles, phantom sports matches, hardware store boomerangs, and the heavy financial cost of good manners.
The weekend officially kicked off on Friday evening with a mandatory "training moment." Here in Belgium, if you want to teach your eldest son how to drive, you first have to prove that you somewhat know what you are doing. We opted for the classic, in-person classroom session rather than the online module. I stand by this choice; the online version might have been easier to ignore from the comfort of my couch, but the live interaction is usually better.
Of course, as is tradition, people showed up late. The rules were crystal clear: arrive 15 minutes early because the administrative logging-in process takes time, and you must sit through the entire three hours. Once the lecture starts, the doors are theoretically sealed. It was, in essence, a purely administrative festival. To highlight the absurdity of the bureaucracy, there was one participant who barely spoke or understood a word of Dutch. But hey, he kept a chair warm for exactly 180 minutes, so boom—he gets a certificate! Bureaucracy at its finest.
Jokes aside, the course did offer some genuinely good tips. Mainly, it served to brutally press our noses into the facts: veteran drivers don't actually know the official highway code anymore. I took my theoretical exam thirty years ago. Back then, there were no roundabouts, speed cameras were science fiction, and the speed limits were straightforward. Now, navigating the absolute maze of modern traffic rules feels like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube while blindfolded.
Saturday’s agenda was packed to the brim. The grand plan included: football matches for both sons, finishing the eldest son’s bedroom renovation, an appointment with a driving school, and catching some of the Omloop Het Nieuwsblad spring classic on TV.
Naturally, the plan immediately derailed.
It started with my youngest son’s football match. He had stopped training early on Wednesday due to knee pain and skipped Thursday entirely. Usually, the club sends a "not selected" message in these cases, but our phones remained completely silent. Caught in Schrödinger’s selection dilemma—where he was simultaneously playing and not playing—we eventually decided just to stay home.
Then came the eldest son's match. Cancelled. The opponent was a complete no-show. It was incredibly frustrating for his team, especially since they really had a bone to pick with this specific squad. To make matters worse, this is already the fifth match of the season they’ve had cancelled, and this one was a postponed game that won't ever be rescheduled. With suddenly empty Saturday evening calendars, we asked some friends to come over later to discuss our upcoming summer holidays.
I did manage to salvage a tiny piece of my morning by watching the start of Omloop Het Nieuwsblad during a late breakfast. From the elaborate team presentations to the official starting gun, it’s quite the spectacle. Belgium is absolutely rabid about cycling, and the race is broadcast almost entirely live on national television. Sadly, due to the impending DIY doom awaiting me upstairs, the start was the only piece of the race I actually got to see.
With breakfast cleared, I headed to the hardware store for UTP network cables and some stone and wood drill bits. Our home network setup means the wired internet for both boys enters through the eldest’s room. We needed to move the router about five meters, which meant buying longer cables—one going to the router, and another feeding back into the wall to supply the youngest son's room.
We successfully ran those cables, feeling quite proud of ourselves. Then, we realized that the cable running from the newly moved router to the PlayStation wouldn't reach because of the routing through the new TV cabinet. So, yes, I had to do the Walk of Shame back to the hardware store for another cable.
Meanwhile, my wife and my eldest son were tackling the installation of an LED light strip around the room. Crucial DIY tip: always unroll and test your lights before permanently affixing them to your furniture. They tested it while it was still wound up on the spool, assumed all was well, and installed it. When they flipped the switch? Absolute disco chaos. On the standard "white" setting, only the first 1.5 meters illuminated. The "red" setting worked perfectly. The "green" setting worked, except the last 1.5 meters decided to glow red. We now have an ambient light setup that invents its own chaotic color combinations.
Next up: drilling. I had to install the handles on the cabinet doors and drawers. This is high-stakes precision work; they have to be perfectly centered and spaced identically across the board. After attaching exactly four of the eight handles, my eldest son decided he’d had enough manual labor for one day and tapped out. We agreed to finish the rest on Sunday.
So, my wife and I moved on to hanging the new mirror. What a delight. First, I measured incorrectly and drilled two entirely useless holes into the wall. Thankfully, the mirror covers them. Then, the drill bit slipped, leaving a massive scratch across the freshly painted wall. Again, mercifully hidden by the mirror. Finally, after drilling the correct holes, they still didn't perfectly align with the bottom mounting clips. Now, to the untrained eye, the mirror looks fine. Nobody will ever notice it. But the wife knows. And in a marriage, that is the only metric that matters. :(
Saturday evening, our friends came over to plan our summer holiday. We’ve gone away with this couple twice before, and it’s usually great because their youngest son is best friends with our eldest. However, our youngest son always feels a bit left out since he doesn't have a built-in buddy on the trip.
This year, he asked if he could bring a friend. His first choice was wishy-washy, but his second choice was enthusiastic. The catch? The second choice's parents are more acquaintances than close friends of ours. Not wanting to pressure them, I politely told them they didn't have to decide instantly and could "sleep on it" for a night.
I woke up the next morning to finalize the booking, only to discover that the travel agency had increased the price of the trip by €120 per person overnight. As the old saying goes: no good deed goes unpunished. Good manners and politeness quite literally blew up in my face.
Sunday was relatively tame. I managed to finish attaching the remaining handles to the cabinets and drawers without destroying any more freshly painted walls.
Now, I am left staring into the abyss of next weekend, where I am scheduled to level the entire cabinet assembly and perfectly align all the doors and hinges. I am already dreading the endless tightening and loosening of tiny screws.
To cope with the impending stress, I parked myself on the couch and watched the KRC Genk match. A fitting, quiet end to a beautifully chaotic weekend.
Cheers,
Peter
