On Thursdays this space is almost exclusively reserved for What Annoys Jeff this Week. It’s been that way for years. This Thursday, though, I’m making an exception to policy. It’s not that the number of things that annoys me has been any less than usual this week. They’ve simply been overwhelmed by the deep and profound sense of relief I’m feeling at getting confirmation from my realtor this afternoon that I’m no longer a condo owner.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d feel when it was all finished. For all my snark and sarcasm, I’m a surprisingly sentimental guy when it comes down to it. I thought maybe there’d be some wistful regret at firmly closing off that last tangible connection to the version of me who existed back when the millennium was new. There’s none of that, though. The feeling really is just one of unbridled relief. It’s not what I expected, but it’s welcome.
I wish I could tell you there were exciting plans for the shekels that found their way into my pocket this afternoon. Paying off the Jeep and a few other bills, putting something back for a rainy day, and investing a bit for my long term financial health don’t make for particularly interesting reading. Maybe I should tell you I’m heading to Vegas for a four-day binge on craps, booze, hookers, and blow. If nothing else it would be suitably fine grist for the rumor mill.
Alas, whatever’s left over is all earmarked as the first tranche of funding for a long delayed bathroom renovation. It will be nice to start actually planning that one instead of continuing to just add items to the list of things I hate about the current master bath.
I promise by this time next week we’ll be back with all the annoyance that’s fit to print… and probably some that should have never been set out on paper. For now I’m just going to bask in the glow of having one giant item knocked completely off my list of things to do.
As a certain Facebook friend of mine is fond of pointing out, I have a bit of a tendency to “bitch about everything.” Guilty as charged. I can’t deny it. I might as well deny the rise and fall of the tide. I like to think my bitching and complaining is the last line of defense; the thing that keeps my blood pressure from spiking to the point of literally blasting off the top of my head. Sure, it never actually changes anything, but it makes me feel better. As I wrote in closing last night, blogging is my safety valve, letting me vent the day’s anger, hostility, and frustration into something like an appropriate channel, or if not strictly appropriate, maybe at least shunting it off into a space where it doesn’t do any lasting damage.
I’ve lived in my head a long time now and if there’s anything I’ve come to know about how I work, it’s that the ranting and raving aren’t the trouble. The real problems come in sullen silence on the days when I don’t say anything all. Those are my worst days – the ones where everything is roiling below the surface. Those days are the hard ones to get through with some semblance of sanity intact.
Today, the sun is up again, the week has careened past its zenith, and mercifully the weekend is coming on a day early. That’s a far cry from saying all is right with the world, but for the time being at least my particular black dog is back on its leash. Don’t worry though, there are still plenty of things that have annoyed me this week, so we’re well on track for tomorrow’s post… because it wouldn’t be Thursday if I didn’t bitch about at least three things.
Mondays are bad enough without assistance. It’s the day of the week when you have to do the most moderation of the standard weekend attitude of doing what you want, when you want. That one has always given me trouble, even under the best of circumstances. When it comes to feeling like I had a big plate of jagged glass for dinner, it’s safe to assume that rules out this being one of those “best circumstance” kind of days. Mostly that translates into feeling pretty surly… or maybe just more surly than usual. That would really depend on your perspective, but that’s not the point.
The point is I’ve spent the last thirteen hours trying to figure out what to swallow that doesn’t feel like it’s trying to rip open my throat from the inside. So far the losers in this contest have been coffee, a turkey sandwich, pretzels, water, and spaghetti. Plus, I’ve spent the last eight hours feeling like I need to sneeze. Eight hours. It would be ok if there were an actual sneeze to go with that feeling – you know at least some momentary feeling of relief or that something is getting accomplished, but no, that’s clearly out of the question.
So instead of doing anything more productive than heating up leftovers and blogging, here I sit, sipping hot tea with lemon and honey (the only thing I’ve found so far that doesn’t hurt to swallow) and feeling like I need to sneeze. Even for a Monday night, this one feels particularly lame. If anyone needs me, I’ll be over here nursing a sore throat and not sneezing.