I went down stairs and opened the doors and turned on the lights and took some pics for a before and after blog post. As I was wrapping up they called and said they couldn’t come today. Oh… okay. So they will try again tomorrow, and for today they will try to bring over some space heaters.
I guess I can post the before pictures now. Insert the sound of a very frustrated sigh here.
Insert a second, more frustrated sounding sigh of frustration here.
Where is a good place for me to go where I can just scream and scream and scream until it all goes away? I could just do it at the dining room table, but that would freak everyone around me out. I don’t want to do that. I could do it in the woods behind my house but that might freak out the neighbors. I could do it in the car, but it will probably be loud enough to freak out the other drivers.
It’s a conundrum, indeed.
Granted I am just about to the point where I am not going to be able to stop myself and I’m just going to start screaming… and I am not 100% sure I’ll be able to stop once I start.
You know how it is, right? Maybe I could dig a hole somewhere and scream into it. I could scream into the void, but there’s never a void around when you need one.
To paraphrase a Woody Allen joke from before we suspected he was a child molesting scumbag piece of crap…
Character #1: I feel a void at the center of my being.
Character #2: What kind of void?
Character #1: Well, an empty void.
In my last post I said my never ending, never to be delivered package was out for delivery. That is incorrect. The tracking status is actually Loaded on Delivery Vehicle, not Out for Delivery. In other words, it’s still in the Chelmsford building.
It has been in Loaded on Delivery Vehicle status for over four hours.
Four hours.
Insert frustrated sigh here.
Remember on Thursday when I said the little lawn mower we borrowed from my father was fixed?
It was.
I have about 3/4 of the property finished. All that’s left is the part of the back yard that you cannot possibly see from the street. The mower though, has started conking out on me. It will run for anywhere from 15-20 seconds to 5 minutes before dying. Sometimes it starts right back up, other times it takes 4-5 pulls.
I’m guessing the fuel line is clogged.
It also had a screw that holds the two pieces of the handle together shake itself loose and fall off. Fortunately we have an army of lawn mowers in the garage and I was able to replace it without going to the store.
Still though… what the hell, mower?
Remember this morning when I said that the evening commutes were not that bad?
It’s the traffic again, of course.
It’s been a little more than two months since my work group moved from Framingham to Westwood and I am so fed up with it. To get to Framingham I was leaving home at 7:50. Westwood is closer, but if I am lucky I get to leave at 7:20. This morning my beloved wife Jen left home at 5:55. I shit you not, 5:55. She called me at 6:30. She’d made it one exit down route 93 South. Maybe a mile or two. I sped up my morning routine, skipped breakfast, and headed off to work at 6:58. I managed to avoid the traffic on route 93, but I hit some on route 495 and then somewhat heavier than usual traffic on both route 3 and route 128. I made it to work in a touch more than 90 minutes. It pains me to say this, but 90 minutes isn’t bad. 44 miles and I am pleased with 90 minutes. It’s ridiculous. It’s insulting. It’s affecting my personality.
By the time I get to work in the morning I am furious. By the time I get home, and I must admit that the drives home are not nearly as bad as the drives in although they are still pretty awful, I am just beaten down. I’m exhausted. Last week my step son asked me to help him hang a poster in his room. I was so beat I almost said no. Can you believe that? I was too worn out from the day to push four friggin’ thumb tacks into his wall. Yesterday the polls in Methuen were open from 7:00am to 7:00pm. I couldn’t go before work because the traffic was so bad. I had to go after work, and despite leaving work at 5:30 I almost didn’t make it in time. I got to the poll at about 6:45. How happy would I have been if the traffic was just a little worse and I missed my chance to vote? Not happy. Not happy at all.
I’m sorry to keep venting about this to you, internet. I just need to get it off my chest. Unloading should make me feel better. It doesn’t.
Inside the Red Head's Head 