I wish I could tell you guys everything that goes on in my ridiculous little world. But I can’t. I work for a company that’s internet savvy, so that’s out: nothing about work. And I don’t always feel comfortable writing about my kids, and their lives.
Indeed, there was a time, years ago, when I didn’t even mention the boys at all. We were childless, by implication. Then Mark Maynard outed me, and I reluctantly began referring to our sons as the Secrets. So, keeping things close to the vest isn’t a completely new development.
But when I was at my previous job I felt semi-safe writing about work. It was probably a false sense of security, but I routinely ranted about characters there who annoyed me. Remember the Shuffler? The woman who never lifted her feet off the floor, and moved through the hallways like she was cross-country skiing?
I could NEVER do that now. I’d be summoned to the Chamber of Reprimands, and possibly frog-marched out the door.
And there are other frustrations that would bore you guys to tears if I addressed them here. I mean, seriously. So, I find myself in a situation where I’m dealing with a whole bunch o’ things that I can’t or don’t want to write about. It’s a problem.
Right now, for instance, I’m operating on four hours of sleep because I went to bed in a state of agitation, and was wide-awake far too soon, all whipped-up again. I can’t tell you a thing about it.
And yesterday morning I woke up to some emotional unrest at Chez Kay, and was needed for Dadly duties. Nothing scandalous, mind you, but private.
So, you see how it’s going? I feel like I’m looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Toney and I both work all the time, and there are fewer and fewer adventures to write about. We rarely even go out to eat at this point. And I don’t watch TV, so I can’t talk to you guys about the latest zombie adventure, either. I’m feeling severely limited.
I wish I could climb into a time machine, return to 2004 or thereabouts, and kick myself squarely in the nuts every time I moaned about being busy, or having a complicated life. Ha! That 2004 Jeff had it made. The whiny little bitch.
A few small things of note:
I’ve had a low-grade cold since, I don’t know… November? Nothing debilitating, but certainly annoying. Right now there’s crackling and whistling and whatnot going on in my lungs, whenever I take a deep breath. Also snot, no shortage of snot. I’ve just about had it with this marathon low-grade cold. Or maybe it’s SARS? Regardless: enough!
Yesterday I found out The Eels will be playing near Philly again, at the end of May. I’ve already asked for the day off at work, and spoken with Steve about it. We will be there, of course, with the Secrets by our side. Both boys have grown up on the Eels, and it’s automatic that they join us now. It’ll be fun.
Toney and I put a deposit down on a hotel/resort in Myrtle Beach, for later in the summer. It’s been a long time since we went on an actual family vacation, and I’m not fully convinced we’ll be able to pull this one off. But we I talked about it, and took the plunge. The wheels are now in motion for a beach trip to the South. We’ll see what happens from here.
I hate my voice. Are you satisfied with yours? Mine has a tonal quality that leads to people saying, “What’s that?” a lot. I work in a place that’s often noisy, and nobody can hear what I say there. I literally have to shout, or say everything twice. It’s bullshit. Some people have voices you could hear on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, at fifty yards. Not me. Toney accuses me of mumbling, but I don’t think that’s accurate. I believe it’s a projection issue. Some people have a cannon for a voice, and I have a fog machine. Wotta rip-off.
And I need to go to work now. For a Question, I don’t know… Do you have any summer plans? Anything on the horizon that’s keeping you going? Please tell us about it. Also, if you could go back ten years, and talk to you, what would you tell him/her? Or… anything else you’d like to comment about.
I’ll see you guys again soon.
Have a great day!