Category Archives: Life

With my pants on…

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Financial Advisor: You had a good tax shelter in the house you sold. You’ll be fine for 2014, but this year you need to buy a house and get married or the tax man is going to fuck you with your pants on in 2015.

Jeff: Well, at least one of those two things might happen… but could I just buy two houses instead?

The timeline I worked out in my head didn’t have me buying a house in 2015, but given the choice between that and the IRS getting to take me out for a ride, I think I’d better start getting things in order and see if I can rejigger the plan a bit. Buying a house is its own special brand of pain and agony, but re-inflating my debt bubble a few months ahead of schedule sounds infinitely less painful in the long run than taking a short trip down the aisle.

Mental preparation…

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I wasn’t mentally prepared for today. To be more precise I was only mentally prepared to be around for part of the day. The other part, the part starting around noon and moving on towards the end of the day, I was counting on that being a little less cubicle and a little more sitting at home wearing fuzzy slippers and hanging out with the dogs.

I might not work with my hands rending a living from the bowels of the earth, but one thing I can tell you with certitude is I leave the office most days mentally worn out. It’s a different kind of tired, but it’s as real and deep down to the bone as any kind of physical tired I’ve ever been.

The level of tired notwithstanding, I need to do a better job of mentally preparing for Mondays… and I need to stop waking up early to clean off the truck and allow extra time to drive to work just because some jackass with a fancy meteorological degree has determined by casting bones and reading entrails that there could be snow the next morning. Two times out of three it’s painfully obvious they have no idea and I just end up missing out on a goodly fraction of the little sleep I allow myself to get on the average weekday.

Winter pastime…

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I’m about to have the first time this year to engage in my favorite winter pastime – watching the Team Aberdeen Proving Ground Facebook page explode with commentary about the weather, when decisions should be made, whether it was a good call, whether it happened early enough, whether it should have been a 2 hour delay, a 4 hour early closure, and 2014_zzsite_graphics_winter_storm_warning-500x330possibly questioning the paternity of those making the decisions in the pre-dawn hours of every day that snow is “likely.” Whatever decisions are made over the next few days, you can rest well assured that social media will decry it as exactly the wrong thing to do.

Despite its off the beaten path location in the wilds of north eastern Maryland, APG and its environs are densely populated with advanced degree holders, senior staff, and the occasional person who has stood toe to toe with Taliban fighters. At the first sight of a flake, all that education and experience goes out the window and everyone devolves into a hopeless mass of name calling indecisiveness. The only thing they can seem to agree on is the goodness of posting poorly thought out comments that everyone on the planet can read and hold them accountable for making.

I don’t want to discourage anyone from voicing their opinion tomorrow because God knows I enjoy reading them. On these snowy days, it really is the most entertaining thing on Facebook. With that being said, I’m not sure when we all got the impression that it was up to someone else to make decisions about our personal health and safety. If for one moment I think my safety is imperiled by being on the road, I’ll make the decision to stay home and sit on the couch with my fuzzy slippers while the world goes on about its business. My life. My decision. That’s one of the perks of being a grown adult in this society. I do wish more people might consider showing the least sliver of personal accountability, but as usual that’s likely too big an ask.

Distinctions…

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I saw a Facebook post this morning that mentioned a “lethal mix of heroin” making it’s way around some part of the country. Now I’m a simple guy and try not to use 20 words when ten would do, so it strikes me that saying lethal mix of heroin economizes words about as much as saying toxic nuclear waste. Regardless of how you phrase it, what you’re trying to say is “if you ingest this shit, there’s a good chance you’re going to end up dead.” Easy peasy, no?

The second thing that occurred to me, is basically so what? I’m not sure why I care that some locality is inundated with this “lethal mix of heroin.” I’ve always sort of figured that if you’re loading something into your bloodstream that you bought in an alley, you’re reasonably well aware of the potential risks you’re facing. Knowing the average heroin user has a higher propensity to drop dead versus the average Joe Sixpack goes with the territory. You make your decisions and you take your risks. If every now and then a bad batch makes its way through to distribution, that’s in the nature of the business.

Addiction is a hell of a thing and while I feel bad for those who are impacted by it, that sympathy doesn’t extend far enough to make a distinction between a good dose and a bad one. Personally, I’d rather see the police rolling up the distribution channels than running “no questions asked” turn ins in an effort to get the Really Really Bad version off the street in favor of the Really Bad variety. It feels a little disingenuous to try making that type of distinction.

Days like today…

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Some days are good. Some days are bad. Most days are somewhere in the realm of average. That’s just the nature of a normal distribution. Days like today, though, they’re different. Their neither good, nor bad, nor average, they’re simply exhausting for no apparent reason. Days like today are probably the ones I hate most. The bad days make me angry. I know how to deal with anger. The good days, shockingly, make me happy. I know how to deal with that too. The average days just sort of plod along and leave me mostly indifferent to their passing. Days like today I just drag myself through the door wanting nothing so much as to collapse into a pile and sleep… but I know there’s still a long list of things to check off before the I find myself anywhere close to bed. It’s the days like today I find my self worn out for no good reason and leave me wondering how the hell anyone is expected to get anything done with the couple of spare hours they have left at the end of the day. Though I suppose maybe making sure we all schlep home exhausted is all part of the grand plan. Yep. It’s a conspiracy. That’s got to explain it.

Passing…

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Sometimes news hits you so hard in the head with a 2×4 that you don’t have any option but to just sit there and be stunned. Unfortunately you stay stunned only long enough for a deep, quiet sadness to rush in and fill the gap.

We kids of the 70s aren’t kids any more. We’re subject to the same laws of nature and time as all those who came before, but I never once imagined we could die. The reality, of course, is something completely different and made all the more appalling from its arrival on a crisp, clear, beautiful Saturday morning. Out of the clear blue, indeed.

Godspeed, Drew. The world is all the more dim for your passing.

Sad to report…

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It is with great sadness I report that I did not win Powerball, Mega Million, or discover a long lost and incredibly wealthy relative over the last 12 days. Unfortunately the only conclusion I can draw from state of affairs is that there’s no alternative besides rising before dawn tomorrow to reacquaint myself with Uncle’s salt mines. I have a vague recollection of what it is I do for a living, but to be perfectly honest I haven’t given it more than a passing though (if that) since the day before the day before Christmas. It feels like finding the parking lot in the morning will be an accomplishment in and of itself. All I know for sure at this point is that whatever the restive effects of a nice long break are, I can already feel them ebbing away. That’s unfortunate on any number of levels.

See ya…

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In a few short minutes we’ll bid a fond (and in many cases drunken) farewell to 2014 – a year mostly remarkable for the sheer volume of outright foolishness that we managed to cram into it as a species. It’s easy to assume that the whole bloody thing is going to hell in a handbag. Maybe it is. As batshit crazy as the universe seems bent on being, I still wouldn’t rather be anywhere other than right here, right now. Well, technically I suppose I’d rather be in bed, but that seems like a minor technical point. In fact I’m the only creature currently stirring in this particular house. Maggie and Winston had the good sense to go on to bed, knowing that 2015 will be here on time regardless of whether they were awake to greet it or not. In fact, following their lead seems like a better idea with each passing minute.

So before I plop down on the couch and doze off well before midnight, I’d like to wish everyone the very best in 2015. See ya bright and early tomorrow.

Official Christmas…

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That title is a misnomer, actually. As it has been for the entirety of my career, what was held this afternoon was the official Non-Denominational Winter Holiday Luncheon (NDWHL). I didn’t attend and if the past is prologue all it meant giving up my chance to pay $18 for a mediocre lunch and the opportunity to participate in painfully awkward party games.

I don’t have any philosophical issues with the annual get together. Sure it’s awfully lame compared to some that I’ve seen put on by private sector creatures, but that’s not really the problem either. Hanging around with Uncle, you get used to settling for the PG, family friendly, version of everything. For me it comes down to the simple discomfort of spending three to four hours boxed into a room full of perfect strangers. Being surrounded by people I don’t know and being required to make polite conversation with them for hours is basically one version of my own personal hell.

There is simply no amount of cajoling, peer pressure, or guilt that would convince me attending the NDWHL is a good idea. Telling me who to work with is well and good, but I always reserve the final say when it comes to who I do and don’t socialize with… and when I know something is simply going to be awkward and uncomfortable, why on earth would I pay for the privilege of enduring it when I have any other option?