Round 7: The wrong kind of pizza

As is often the case, we made an oven pizza for dinner. However, because we've gotten into a routine about it, it ended up being a deluxe pizza, which Eric doesn't care for. I felt bad enough about that, but when I apologized he didn't seem to accept that. Damn it's unnerving when someone doesn't accept an apology. It's so immaterial and yet it's a meaningful gesture.

It's been a tiring Christmas Eve. I worked last night and accumulated numerous tales of stress while doing so. At one point I was left to my own devices on cash while my managers went to smoke. That was slightly uncool and later, after they'd come back, I think I was somewhat unhinged. I think I hid it okay, until I had to split my attention between doing cash and signing off for the guy who had forgotten to do so. I suppose I could've just patched him through to the back to take care of that, but gosh darnit, my quick-thinking skills had been thoroughly fried by the repetitive nature of "Find everything okay tonight? Need a gift receipt for this?" Bluh. Got a little heck for it, but life goes on.

I woke up on this mild Christmas Eve around ten. I'd rolled over, thinking "Five more minutes" when I got the knock from mom. "Help me, I can't get out of the driveway!" Spah. So I get my shoes and my snowpants on, not in that order, over my pyjamas. I head outside and grab a shovel and find mom's car still buried in snow. "Well," I groaned, "At least try." So as she's clearing the snow off her windshield she keeps repeating for my benefit, "It's not gonna work, there's too much snow I can't get out." But it's slightly over zero so the snow is rapidly liquefying. So I just roll my eyes - we Williams boys will do whatever we can to avoid any actual work - and say "Just try to get out first, then I'll do what needs to be done." So finally she gets in the car, repeating her mantra of "It won't work, I need your help," then turns the ignition, and drives off without a hitch. I smirk and roll my eyes. A lot of the time I'm full of it, but just as often, I know my shit.

Well anyway, I cleared some driveway as a show of good faith, before going to the mall with Amanda. We didn't meet up this past weekend because she was visiting her mom. I got all huffy because the weather was gross and because of work and drivewaygate. We did our usual thing, and she bought this induction stove after much hemming and hawing over which was the better buy - the one or two-stove version. Life went on.

I ran some errands in this disgusting weather, swapping out Chris' Lost season 2 for his Season 3. And on the way there, I slipped on some ice and tweaked my neck. It's still a little stiff. Hrm.

Anyway. As the ran kicked up - Crazy-Ass Christmas Eve rain - I neglected any shoveling duties I might have had, and Eric and I spent the day watching Lost. I wish I had some grand thoughts for the holiday, but I spent them on my Facebook holiday greeting, and they're not particularly grand. I'm keeping things in perspective this year... 2008 was all right, but 2009 has a ton of potential.

Anyway. I was working the other day, and I ran into Kershaw. Even though we buried the hatchet by talking a lot in late Grade 12, there's always been this palpable awkwardness in our interactions. I can never shake the reverberations of what he said to me when he made it very clear he no longer wanted my friendship. Some of it was hurtful, some of it angered me, and some of it was very, very true. I was not always the easiest person to deal with in those days. I have spend a good deal of time since then wondering why it was he felt the need to end our friendship so dramatically, rather than talking it out or even simply putting up with it. I think Josh Kershaw is, at heart, a very good guy, who has a habit of letting his annoyance with others get the better of him. Just like, back in those days, I was a generally good guy who had a habit of letting stress get the better of me. I try to manage, but sometimes I get taken too far still, like when I was overwhelmed last night. Cycles, life. Cycles.

I've come a long way, but still have far to travel. More tomorrow. More next year.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto