The Dark Side

About every four months I completely lose my shit.  The business of life gets to me and I go postal...sort of.  My "going postal" looks more like I'm just on a major fart-hold while trying to remember the lyrics to the Twelve Days of Christmas.  My turmoil is largely internal.

"Uuuse the forceful language, Mike"

There are a few ways in which my rage manifests itself externally though.  For example I was grumpy and impatient enough yesterday to illicit, I'm sure, a few disparaging comments from the polling place volunteers at the The Good Shepherd Lutheran Church.  If there was some shit-talking, I hope they know that they don't have to pray to Luther for forgiveness.  He would have called me a "dickhead" too.  

And of course there's Erin.  Poor, sweet Erin.  The spouse always get the brunt of the bad mood, don't they?.  I'm sorry about that babe.  Love you!  

The good news is what comes from this is a drive to change things for the better, TODAY!!  I find that this stress and frustration that's been building, probably for weeks, fuels within me a sudden and uncharacteristic urge to grab life by the pants, yank down as hard as I can, and point and laugh until I pee myself.  Metaphorically.

It's kind of like in Return of the Jedi when Lando Calrissian flies into the Death Star's core to blow up its reactor and then has to outrun the explosion.  There's a moment right at the end where he's shooting down the tunnel and he's completely overrun but manages to burst out in a big fiery explodey ball of flames and shoots out into space going "Yaahooooo!!" to that alien that looks a little too much like Dumb Donald from Fat Albert.  It's just like that.

Boom

I'd had it!  So today I made a list of things that have been stressing me out that I can resolve on my lunch break.  The first thing I did was call Buckle and DEMANDED to know what's going on with the pants I ordered back in August.  Next I called Healdsburg Hospital and DEMANDED a detailed receipt from a procedure I'd had last July so I could submit it to my HSA.  "No problem" they said.  Sure it's "no problem" when you can tell I mean business.  And finally I DEMANDED that the auto repair place let me know if there was any chance I could make an appointment for service sometime this month, maybe (I'm less confident with car stuff).

What a satisfying turn of events, and all brought about by months of suppressed frustration.  As Karma would have it though, things have already begun to turn around for the better.  I only wish poor Erin could have seen me go all "alpha-male".  The hotness of it might have undone some of the damage.