Bitch (21)

Grumpy. Cranky. Out-of-sorts. Bitch. That’s how I feel these days and probably how other people think of me, at least some of the time. There’s nothing like dealing with incompetence to make me spin into bitch mode. Pre-fire, I tried to practice some patience with people whose job is to serve the customer. Maybe they’re young, inexperienced, having a hard day. I’d give them the benefit of the doubt. Post-fire, I’m the one having a hard life and I’ve run out of patience dealing with everything. I don’t suffer fools lightly. It doesn’t take much to make me snap at someone, and I don’t like the person I’ve become lately. I imagine my colleagues’ and friends’ patience is wearing thin, too, and sometimes I’m amazed they are still around. I hope they’re giving me the benefit of the doubt.

When I first moved into the rental home after the fire, I thought I could use this time as an opportunity for change. My life was already in upheaval, I reasoned, so I might as well make some improvements, change things up a bit. The problem, though, is that there are so many minor changes that anything major seems like too much to attempt. My iPhone kept having problems and eventually Apple gave me a new one. Great. Of course, I have to set it up all over again with my favorite apps, games, settings, and more. No big deal. My cable TV is all working now. Great. This is the third company I’ve used, and there are still new details in its system I haven’t quite figured out. I have a new laptop now to replace the one I lost in the house fire. Great. I had to learn its particular settings, but that wasn’t too difficult. The contractor was able to retrieve my files from the old computer, but I couldn’t open them without installing a new Microsoft Office. I get the 2010 version, very up-to-date. Great. But the version I had before at home and at work was 2003, and a lot has changed. I’m trying to learn the new one, but periodically, whole paragraphs disappear on me – aaaaah! The rental furniture people provided me with new phones, but I just can’t make myself learn one more thing, so there’s no voice mail set up and I doubt I’ll do it since I’ll be getting new phones again when I move back to my house. Trivial stuff, for sure, but I’m tired of learning one more thing, no matter how small. I just want to use my phone, get on my computer, or turn on the TV without thinking, now how does this work?  I’m getting cranky again.

I’m trying to deal with my stress. I consider getting some therapy to help me get through this challenging part of my life, but I can’t seem to find the time; my ‘to-do’ list is too long. My son, who has so recently opened up to me about his pain and depression, has put up his invisible wall again and become like the hostile teenager he was in high school, which doesn’t help our relationship or the atmosphere at home. The dogs continue to perfect their act as escape artists. They find every possible dip in the land under rotten fence posts to break out of the backyard. When the phone guy leaves the gate ajar, despite my warning, the dogs disappear down the street and into the path behind the neighborhood houses. I grab my shoes and run after them. Buuuuddy. Roooosie. Come back here! The neighbors may not know who I am, but I bet they know my dogs’ names. I return home to see them sitting in the yard, sunning themselves. I’m feeling grumpier by the minute. I look at the dogs, so satisfied with themselves, and I guess I can’t blame them wanting to get away now and then. I just wish I could, too.

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This entry was posted in Change, Colleagues, Contractor, Depression, Dogs, Family, House, House Fire, My Life, New Beginning, Personal Memoir, Relationships, Rescue Dogs, Son, Stress, Technology, Therapy, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Bitch (21)

  1. Debby says:

    Really, you are handling things in a fantastic manner. Just love your dogs.

  2. I think a lot of us are feeling grumpy these days. I work in a solitary environment 50 to 60 hours a week and have to frequently deal with customers who come in with a chip on their shoulders prepared to do battle with me over the sale price of a mattress set. Three years ago I dealt with these people in an amiable fashion. These days I’m still courteous but I take the time to let them know that pissing me off is not going to get them what they want since I’m the guy who has the power to give them what they want. I do not suffer fools easily myself.

    The store I manage is next to a Shell gas station I lovingly refer to as “Crack Ho Central” because that’s exactly what it is. Three years ago I was courteous to the denizens who came in to use the store phone, bathroom, and even the ones who’d ask for money. This past week I exploded and threw a man out of the store. Three years ago I wouldn’t have blown up.

    My personal life sucks. My children are grown and married and have kids of their own, though my youngest daughter is married to a physically abusive man who’s also been cheating on her. I’m not much of a help there because she lives one-thousand miles from me. Like most abused women she won’t file a police report and get a restraining order.

    So basically life sucks quite a bit of the time and for reasons I can’t seem to verbalize my temperament has gotten short and ugly at times, and my famous sense of humor has mostly been on sabbatical this year after an ugly online incident on another social site which still stays with me. I’m hoping things change before my final act opens and there will be no time to listen to any applause or accept any curtain calls.

    I know how you’re feeling. All I can say is just hang in there.

  3. shoshwrites says:

    Sorry it’s going so rough with you, too, Harmon. I don’t think my life is too bad overall, but the current situation definitely sucks. I’d like to think that’s why I’m so cranky, because if that’s not the reason, it might be I’m getting to be old and just cranky for the hell of it.

  4. Shosh – We all get older, but we don’t have to get old. I still don’t act the way 67 year old men are supposed to act. Maybe I will get old someday, but for now I’m still fighting the good fight though the punches aren’t as fast, furious, and hard as they once were.

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