Then the next day my doc congratulated me on losing 15 lbs since he saw me (also last year), which I hadn't realized I'd done and on my (quoting him) "perfect" blood numbers. Annual physical, doncha know. The Beneficiary continues to be generally well-disposed toward me, kids and grandkids seem to be doing as well as expected, the post-vacation glow continues to do its thing, etc., etc., etc.
In short, just not a bad week at all — a damned good one, actually.
I did manage to drive a power screwdriver (a pointy Phillips head, thank God, as a regular blade would have augered a BIG hole) through the web between my thumb and index finger (right hand) while mounting an estate-sale-bargain bell on a surprisingly dense wooden post the other day, but nothing major or new there. I've long since arrived at a hard-learned understanding that regardless of my achievements and/or demonstrated competence in any of the million dangerous or complex aspects of my job, my incompetence with household "projects" are well-documented, resulting in the near certainty that I'm going to upfuck something and usually hurt myself in the process. I've always been in far more danger of damaging, wounding, or fatalizing (which I just made up) myself at home than working. Anyhow, as always my high pain tolerance protected me from the full consequences of what was, in fact, a pretty stupid act.
(Bonus Pro Tip: Don't flatten your hand on a solid surface to hold something in place while pointing poorly-directed high-speed sharp spinning thingies at it. The Latin phrase "Vocem-Meam-A-Ovime-Tangit"[*] is embossed on the newly mounted bell, and now also pertains to my hand.)
 |
| The Death-Or-At-Least-Crippling Bell |
But even this (literally) bloody dumbassery could not overshadow the general flow of good stuff this week.
So, why am I feeling so — neutral(?) — about it?
I've got a major life-change coming up on Monday or, more accurately, at midnight Monday night, so maybe that's it. I dunno. I just seem to be having a harder and harder time engaging with it all. I feel a bit like I'm watching someone else do this stuff. In my experience, this kind of dissociation is usually a pretty good indicator that deep-night Irish whiskey, dark Mozart, and tribal Heilung are in my immediate future.
Make no mistake, this process is an effective self-treatment for me, and definitely has its place, but I have no patience for it at the moment. Instead I need to pull my head out of my ass and get re-engaged with my own life, which somehow feels like it wandered off when I wasn't paying attention, and save the whiskey for another dark day. There will probably be plenty of those. I doubt I'll be missing anything if I skip this time around.
I mean, it happens. I recognize that it's a familiar and automatically called protective measure sometimes invoked when I've stepped hip-deep into some shitstorm and need to keep my head clear to make decisions. But when it arrives unannounced, unbidden, and unwanted and unplugs me without warning, it's rather less useful and a lot more annoying. It took me years to learn to mostly control it and keep from shutting out my whole life and everyone in it, and still tends to make me a little(?) prickly around people I don't know.
(Bonus Joke:
Man To Shrink: "I think I've lost my mind."
Shrink to Man: "I wouldn't worry about it. As sick as it is, it can't have gotten far."
Hah! Oh come on — that's funny...)
Pfft. Probably just need some sleep and to do a bit of shovel and pickax Stoic work rooting around and sorting out what's got up my ass this time. There's always a root somewhere and I'll find it, but seriously, what a pain in the nether bits it is. We'll see how it goes. As an incidental matter, when I'm like this, actually posting stuff generally turns out to be a crappy idea, so I'll hang onto this for a day or two to see whether I manage to get a handle on it.
(UPDATE: It was/is the Monday thing, which I sorted out when an old friend did a "King Hamlet" turn and returned from the dead in a dream last night.
"It's the Monday thing, moron," he said impatiently, and turned on his heel and walked off without another word, shaking his head with annoyance. This was considerably less symbolic or entertaining but vastly more informative than most of my dreams.
In any case, I've worked it out, mostly by starting out this morning laughing at my dumb ass for the previously unrecognized subconscious belief that it was all going to last forever. My subconscious, having been dragged into the daylight and shamed for being a whiny putz, has retreated, head down and tail tucked, back to its kennel and is leaving me alone for the nonce.)
[*]Freely translated: ""Who touches me shall hear my voice“. (Back)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Well, Don't Just Sit There -- Say Something!