Doing the Right Thing Can Suck

I am scheduled for Jury Duty a week from Monday. May 6th, to be exact. I booked time off from work for the day like a good citizen of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Good boy.

Today I came as close to hitting the lottery as I’ll ever come. I got a letter from the state. You always get a letter from the state about a week before Jury Duty. It usually says that you need to call the courthouse you were assigned to the business day before you are schedule to appear and they will tell you if you have to show up or not. That’s not what I got this time. This time the letter just said that they don’t need me and I don’t have to go. Sweet! It’s like a get out of jail free card… or just a get out of jury duty free card. Let’s not mix the metaphorical side of the courtroom bar I would have been sitting on… or whatever. You know what I mean, right? Right.

So I have the day off of work on Monday and I don’t have to do anything to earn it! WOOHOO!

That’s when the guilt started hitting me. Stupid guilt. Two days after my scheduled civic duty is my birthday (53 years old, you geriatric fart) and I took a vacation day that day just because. It’s my special day, or some crap like that. So I… I let the guilt take over. I logged into work and canceled my Jury Duty time off request. Ugh. Why did I do that? Because it was the right thing to do? Ugh… you putz. Just take the free day off. No… I’ll work that day. I might even drive into the office.

Idiot.

Two Weeks

Two weeks ago at about this time, I think I was being moved from the operating room to the recovery room. I’m trying to find some way to commemorate this historic anniversary and I am coming up with nothing. I’m in the cellar, watching Breaking Bad again and surfing online music stores on my laptop. I don’t want to spend money on gitter stuff but what can you do? Pedal boards and random gear are just fun to daydream about. I have made sure to avoid looking at actual guitars though. Amps too. Just pedals and non-bank breaking stuff.

As for the post-surgical update, I had a weird experience today. I ate my delicious tuna fish puree at lunch time. When I was done I… well… it’s so odd… I felt… hungry. As in, damn I could go for another ounce of that fun stuff. It was just a weird feeling.

I am still not giving any details on the subject, but my mother is still in the hospital. I still can’t do anything about it, and likely won’t be able to for another 2-3 weeks. I feel less than useless. Again, no details are coming but I just needed to state that publicly for my own guilt ridden reasons. That is all.

Happy two-week birthday to my little baby stomach*.

* In his book Ghost Rider, Neil Peart, while dealing with the deaths of his wife and daughter, refers to parts of his recovery as feeding his little baby soul. My soul is okay, but my little baby stomach needs constant attention.

One Week and One Day

Okay. The weight loss surgery date is one week from tomorrow. It’s hitting me. Or at least it’s starting to, and it’s coming from directions I did not expect.

I’m putting together notes for co-workers so they can cover some of my regular responsibilities while I’m out for a whole month. The result is feelings of guilt. Big time feelings of guilt. Not the soul destroying guilt I was buried under a year ago when things were going really bad at my parents house, but a new, fresh, form of guilt.

Guilt over all of the things I won’t be able to do at home until after I recover. Guilt for the burden I am going to be on Jen and Harry and (eventually) Bellana. Even guilt over needing to finish the cellar before the surgery date and therefore putting the contractor into a position where he felt he needed to stay at our house working until 10:00 last night, and 9:30 one night last week.

I did not see this coming, but here it is.

Shit.

Guilt

We were originally thinking of keeping me isolated until tomorrow night. I was going to take another Covid-19 test, both rapid and PCR, and when the rapid came back negative I would be in the clear. Today, after a little consultation with the CDC, we decided to stretch that to Friday. I cancelled my test appointment and rescheduled for Friday morning. It’s just another day and a half, and while we all agree it is likely a massive overreaction, it just feels a little safer and a little smarter. I just wish it didn’t feel like such a crushing blow. Come on, Robert. It’s only about 36 hours more.

On top of all of the other shit though, it just adds to all the guilt. I should be able to do more for my parents. I should be able to do more for Jen. I should be able to do more to keep everyone safe while still helping with everything that needs help. Shit, man. I shouldn’t really feel this guilty, but I do. It’s weighing me down and making me tired all the time.

I feel like I need a good, solid win. Followed by a good, solid, long (permanent?) vacation to someplace where it never gets too cold and snow is a fairy tale told to kids to scare them into being good… or something like that.

Ah, hell. I think I’m just tired. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning. I did get my 30 minutes of exercise in today, so hopefully that will lead to a really good night’s sleep.

Wish me luck.

Clueless

I don’t know what to write about today. It’s Labor day, so have a good one.

Clean up in the cellar has been taken care of for now. All of Harry’s left over laundry is done, though I still need to put his sheets back onto his bed. There is a mountain of laundry in Bellana’s room that I’ll probably start today. I set up a new music nook for quarantine in the cellar last night and am hoping I’ll get a chance to use it today. Maybe.

No cookouts for me today. Just isolation and stress and work and guilt and the usual. It’s hard to explain what is going through my head at this point. I am sad about how my mother is handling the change (did I ever post what the change was? I’ll get to it), I am guilty because I am not there to help, I am pissed off because I have to isolate for Covid (even though I’m positive this whole thing is an overreaction, even if the overreaction is still the smart move) and I don’t get to hug my wife, and I am filled with relief that my parents are finally in a place where they can get the help and care that they need rather than have my idiot ass pretending like I know what I am doing.

I don’t know.

Here’s the Covid music nook:

Hopefully I won’t have to use it long and can go back to the bedroom. I haven’t received a call from the urgent care place telling me I have a positive result so that’s good. I have an appointment for another test on Wednesday. If that comes back negative then it’s back to reality for me. I know it will because I was barely exposed and people who had much closer exposure are all testing negative. Whatever, isolating is the right thing to do, I just want it to be over.

I want isolation to be over, I want Covid to be over. I want my parents’ difficulties to be over. I want being guilty to be over. I want to be able to get a good night’s sleep again. I want to be able to work without having to think about all of this other stuff. I want my wife to not have to worry about me. I want my kids to not have to worry about anything except their educations. I want my band to get back together.

Call me selfish, but I just want normal back.

Shit. I had nothing to write about when I started and then I turned it into another downer. Sorry about that. Next time I post I’ll try to include some jokes or something.

Feline Guilt

Jen and I feel like we screwed up our cat, Patches, by trying to bring a second cat into the house. These feelings are irrational, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. We both said that we have the urge to try to make it up to Ms Patches by spoiling the holy hell out of her.

Today we bought:
A big cat tree.
A kitty bed.
A shelf thing to attach to a windowsill so she can perch on it.
Three different kinds of cat toys.
Two new types of treats.

The cat tree is up. She hasn’t climbed on it yet, but she did put her paws onto the lowest level. I tried two of the toys. They definitely caught her interest, but she ended up running away from both of them.

Patches is just crazy.

Drop the Puck

I have such mixed feelings about the end of the NHL lockout. I love hockey so much. I bleed black and gold. I am a Boston Bruins fanatic. I hang on every shift, every play, every pass, every check, every shot, every save, every goal. Damn it, I love this friggin game!

But they hurt me again. The hurt me eight years ago when they cancelled a whole season, yet this time hurts me even more. I guess it’s knowing that I am partly to blame this time. I came back last time and this year I paid for my lack of vision.

I believe in my heart that three lockouts under the current commissioner proves that the league is fundamentally broken and must be allowed to fail. Then a new league, one that cares about its customers and does not take them for granted or use them as bargaining chips, can rise from the ashes of the old.

But damn it if I don’t love my Bruins and damn me for wanting to see them play this year.