Almost two years ago, right at the beginning of the pandemic, I wrote a blog post called Sometimes All You Can Do Is Rock With The Storm. The idea was that, hey, everyone is having a rough time right now, and we’ll likely see more rough times ahead. Knowing that life is difficult, and will end for all of us someday, how shall we live today?
Of course, no one could have imagined then that COVID would be the gift that keeps on killing for years, not months. Or that so many of our fellow citizens would turn out to be such stupid, selfish babies. As I’ve said many times over the past couple years, “You’re not storming the beach at Normandy; you’re being asked to wear a mask at Costco.”
But okay, I get it now: trying to get people to pull in the same direction is like trying to corral cats.
Meet the New Year, Same As The Old Year
Regular readers of this blog may have noticed the absence of a post last week.
I was simply not up for it. And I’d had high hopes for January 2022—turning a page on what’s been, at best, a write-off, at worst, a terrible couple of years.
Then one of our cars died and had to be replaced.
Then I got thoroughly soaked by a disreputable auto dealership.
My only uncle and godfather, my uncle Jack, died.
Our heater stopped working. It was 47 degrees overnight.
Then the stock market tanked more than it already had this year, lowering the value of my modest retirement account.
Okay, okay, I give! I give!
Another Bozo on the Bus
Truthfully, I recognize that these are run-of-the-mill life challenges. Aging relatives pass on, cars and heaters come and go, money is just money. Although my wife worries about it even more than I do, I reminded her last night that we’ve never missed a meal. Our challenges, steep as they may seem at times, are nowhere near those of most people around the world. I get it, I’m just another bozo on the bus.
On the other hand, I could use a little break from the slings and arrows. I’ve got some new projects to start tomorrow after wrapping up January’s many projects. That’s good. My lovely wife has a new job. Fingers crossed, that will be good, too. And this Friday—God willing and the creek don’t rise—I’ll have an astonishing (to me) 33 years of continuous sobriety. That means I’ll get a few unearned “attaboys.” For that alone, I’ll be grateful.
Happy Monday and, as always, thanks for reading.