I’ve been at a loss for words the past several weeks. Bad funk. As for writing, I wasn’t struggling to come up with any ideas. I just knew that I would likely regret whatever it was that I wrote because my pants were so full of poop.
There is no dramatic backstory to explain. No specific incident or anything like that. Actually, my bad mood (not the first, not the last) developed mostly as a result of the banalities of my daily routines.
One morning probably in February, my mind suddenly became overwhelmed with the grind of crying/teething/fighting kids, a house crumbling from damage caused by said kids, too much Disney/not enough Hemingway, grilled cheese sandwiches smooshed in hair and wiped on walls instead of meals with peaceful conversations, low energy, winter blues, etc. And repeat the next day. Every day. Every week. Then start again the following week. Blah, blah, blah. The only respite was going to work, but really, how messed up is it that a job becomes the place to recharge one’s energy?
Fortunately, I maintained perspective. We have our health. We have a roof over our heads. We have food in our bellies. We have clothes on our backs. As cliché as that may be, everything else is truly just gravy.
But being American, I of course want everything, right now, because of my self-perception that I’m the hardest worker I know. These yin and yang debates raged on mostly inside my head, while I toiled through the daily drudgery.
I felt myself becoming unlike myself. Almost like when Jack Butler (Mr. Mom) yells at Kenny for coloring outside the lines and enjoying the same television shows as his one year old. Although I wish it was that lighthearted in my case. (Again, no real drama but my heart is guilty for slacking off in the patience department to name one example.)
Eventually, I think I just annoyed myself into a better mood. I decided to be Billy Ocean when the going gets tough.
I’m launching a system upgrade. Dad version 4.0. (Greta turned four last month.) Hopefully, the new software will be the kind that doesn’t wreak havoc on the server causing an eye-rolling, belly aching uproar among the employees and calls every day to Help Desk people named “Joe” and “Bob” in sub-continental Asia.
With that confession out of the way, I’m ready to emerge from hibernation. I’m re-booting the computer now.