Frustration builds

It’s more than the book. It’s a number of things all coming together. The result: I’m unbearable. I don’t excuse the behavior, I look forward to learning to cope better than I do now.

Two years ago this Christmas, my car was stolen from in front of our house. They found it totaled later that day near the Canadian border. We’ve never replaced the car; it was good motivation for me to make the switch to biking to work everyday. It was a good health decision, because it’s the only time I get to exercise anymore.

Now our family car is starting to really show the strain of managing our family. It’s trashed. It hits me every time we get into the car. See, our two year old son shoved two two CDs into the CD player, now it makes a terrific noise whenever we start the car. The autolock was “fixed” the last time we took it to the shop. $400 and the noise stopped for a grand total of one day. Actually, less than a day. Crazy.

I need to paint the house, but, c’mon, who really wants to paint a house? I can’t afford to fix our car, how am I going to pay to paint the house? Let’s not start on the roof, the floors, or the windows.

But it’s not just money, tonight we were committed to another family/friend get together. We had one last weekend, and we’re on the hook for another next weekend. These events drive me crazy. It’s rare that I get any time (or time that is not with assistance) to work on the house, now to have another day of another weekend taken out from under me is really getting old.  I try to go with the flow, you know, the path of least resistance and all that: I cram writing the book into the hour or so after everyone goes to bed. But sometimes I don’t handle it well at all. Like a teenager, or worse. I embarrass myself.

See, I’ll get all anxious and bent out of shape, Janet and I will have another ‘chat’ about the various priorities we have, and then I’ll have two pressure-filled weekends or so to prove the efficacy of my time when applied to our priorities, lest our schedule begin to slip into additional social engagements.

Tonight, our daughter chose to bring her little animals to the tub for her bath and one is stuck in the…

Me, me, me…ugh. You know, I’m bored with this. Whining. I loath it. It’s all I’ve done the last four days.

The point of posting this? I’ve no idea. I suppose I wanted to show there is a human/life element to this process. Or I needed to purge. Lucky you, heh?

37 days remaining (866:10:24)

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