I'm alone this week. Or most of this week. Chris generally comes home promptly after work, but this week he's on the other side of the state, attending a conference for work. Like many conferences, this one goes for three days, during which all the attendees will be kept busy. My work day isn't going to change much, but I do kind of wonder how well I'm going to manage the evenings.
I've got meetings with friends planned, and of course plenty of work and virtual "company." Ever heard of people that like to have the TV on for the background noise? It's kind of like that, apparently, for some of my friends and podcasts. I personally don't think it's really the same, but there is a certain comfort in hearing other people talking. Particularly if the subject they're talking about is pleasant, or at least funny.
I've been monitoring my behavior since Chris left, and I'm not overly pleased with the results thus far. My diet has deteriorated, my productivity is down, I'm disregulated, and I'm spending lots of time doing "comfort" things rather than doing useful or important things. I even managed to entirely forget an appointment yesterday, and now I'll have to call today to apologize and reschedule. I'm setting a special alarm tomorrow to make darned sure I don't forget tomorrow's meetup with friends, and I shouldn't have to do that.
Also, my metaphorical skin feels very thin at present. Some of that is Chris not being here, but I suspect some of it is also due to the sheer amount of shredded sanity I'm experiencing, courtesy of my thoughtless neighbors. I talked a bit last week about how I like fireworks, as a whole, and why. I have since found out that I only like fireworks when I have voluntarily chosen to be near them. In the weeks prior to the 4th, and even up to today, I've been subject to the sporadic, spontaneous whims of my neighbors and their extremely large supply of explosives and fireworks.
I tolerated it, somewhat, around the actual 4th, because fireworks and the 4th go together. But each explosion made my heart stop, then restart with a huge jolt of adrenaline and the occasional comic flailing of limbs and distressed "meep" sound. I've resisted the increasingly strong urge to call the police, as apparently my city has a noise ordinance that begins at 10pm... but only for fear of police brutality. My neighbors are overwhelmingly non-white, and sometimes don't speak English that well.
Much as I absolutely despise any human being that thinks it's acceptable to throw explosives around at 1am when people work the next day, I didn't want the possibility of dead neighbors on my conscience. Though admittedly, I keep telling myself that if they do it one more time, I will call the cops and be it on their own thoughtless heads whatever results. Every firework and explosive they throw is an assault to my sanity and willpower.
At least the number of explosives seems to have tapered off lately...
I've got meetings with friends planned, and of course plenty of work and virtual "company." Ever heard of people that like to have the TV on for the background noise? It's kind of like that, apparently, for some of my friends and podcasts. I personally don't think it's really the same, but there is a certain comfort in hearing other people talking. Particularly if the subject they're talking about is pleasant, or at least funny.
I've been monitoring my behavior since Chris left, and I'm not overly pleased with the results thus far. My diet has deteriorated, my productivity is down, I'm disregulated, and I'm spending lots of time doing "comfort" things rather than doing useful or important things. I even managed to entirely forget an appointment yesterday, and now I'll have to call today to apologize and reschedule. I'm setting a special alarm tomorrow to make darned sure I don't forget tomorrow's meetup with friends, and I shouldn't have to do that.
Also, my metaphorical skin feels very thin at present. Some of that is Chris not being here, but I suspect some of it is also due to the sheer amount of shredded sanity I'm experiencing, courtesy of my thoughtless neighbors. I talked a bit last week about how I like fireworks, as a whole, and why. I have since found out that I only like fireworks when I have voluntarily chosen to be near them. In the weeks prior to the 4th, and even up to today, I've been subject to the sporadic, spontaneous whims of my neighbors and their extremely large supply of explosives and fireworks.
I tolerated it, somewhat, around the actual 4th, because fireworks and the 4th go together. But each explosion made my heart stop, then restart with a huge jolt of adrenaline and the occasional comic flailing of limbs and distressed "meep" sound. I've resisted the increasingly strong urge to call the police, as apparently my city has a noise ordinance that begins at 10pm... but only for fear of police brutality. My neighbors are overwhelmingly non-white, and sometimes don't speak English that well.
Much as I absolutely despise any human being that thinks it's acceptable to throw explosives around at 1am when people work the next day, I didn't want the possibility of dead neighbors on my conscience. Though admittedly, I keep telling myself that if they do it one more time, I will call the cops and be it on their own thoughtless heads whatever results. Every firework and explosive they throw is an assault to my sanity and willpower.
At least the number of explosives seems to have tapered off lately...
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