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.