31: Thisconnection

I had another title in mind for this post, which will sit in my pocket for next time. Tonight I was noticing my charger wasn't charging. Was there a problem with my phone? With the cable going into the adapter? The adapter into the extension cord? Ultimately it was the extension cord that had come loose from the wall. Funny how many connections are required to make a thing go, and if any of them is out of wack -- from the first to the last -- there's no charging.

I need to take myself to task a little bit. I know I've been lollygagging and leting myself off the hook for it but I saw concern from Mel about money for the first time since I quit and I'm troubled. "You need a job," she told me, resignedly, as if I didnt know. I do know but sometimes it feels like I don't. Like I'm living in a fantasy land, pursuing unproductive hobbies instead of grinding away trying to gain employment. I do apply for jobs, but not every week, and I could definitely work on making myself a better candidate. 

This wasn't the post I thought I was going to be making. Can you believe, though, I briefly bought into the idea that I *could* make money at stupid phone games? I've extracted about $13 so far and with considerable effort.

The above was written last night to sort of clear my head of angst before bed, which was good. Now I'm slightly revitalized and clear-headed. That said, all of my problems from last night still exist, and now it's Saturday morning.

The major theme of the past few weeks has been our mortgage refinancing, which has been onerous and stressful. Painful even. There are a lot of moving parts, a lot of involved parties, a lot of papers to gather and sign. This is largely my responsibility since I'm the one with the free time on his hands (when not spent diddling with games or writing silly stories for pocket change.) But my mental acuity hasn't been sharp enough and it's caused some friction. It's just more on the ongoing theme of not feelign like I'm enough, and then proving it. 

I've just taken a break from writing this to apply for a job, a corporate communications specialist at Mel's company. I think I could do it and I think I'd enjoy it but who knows if I'm... sigh... "qualified."

I'm casting about in all different directions, trying to figure out what the world needs from me. It's pretty disheartening. 

While I'm already not at my best, the universe doesn't make things any easier by making errors on my behalf and just generally throwing complications my way. We ordered a new chair for Mel this week and she was all excited but one of the pieces was defective and now we have to wait for a replacement to arrive and who knows how long that will take. Various flips and flaps have surrounded the paperwork for this mortgage thing, only some of which is my fault but mostly is others (our insurance agent had our mailing address wrong.) There was a whole to-do about a $200 charge to get a status certificate that we didn't want to pay, ended up getting a deal to have reimbursed, and then didn't end up needing anyway (luckily I got a refund.) These things would be hard enough for somebody who had general confidence. Add to that our desire to, you know, just live our lives and enjoy ourselves.

I maintain that I would have almost zero problems in life had WFH never ended at my old job. Oh, I'd be disgruntled and on the lookout for a new job, but would I have up and quit? Probably not.

Alas, that is not the world we live in.

Anyway, the mortgage thing will be settled soon one way or another. My employment and money woes are less likely to end soon but it's time to pick myself up by my bootstraps (which is impossible anyway, the true nature of that expression.) I don't think anybody believes in me, myself included, but it's time to prove us all wrong.

--message truncated--

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

30: Uncurious Animals

To start with, yes there was a post #29 but it was that rare entry that was so dire I didn't even publish it,  (consider the implications of that!) holding it back until, I don't know, some kind of statute of limitations expires.

It's been an eventful, noteworthy few weeks, not always for the right reasons but sometimes. Yesterday was particularly ignominious. Really, it started Saturday night when I was getting home from picking up some dinner after a day of idly lounging around. My phone slipped out of my hand as I was getting to the door and fell face down. No matter, I thought, happens all the time, and we proceeded to have a nice evening eating Kelsey's takeout and watching a documentary about the BTK Killer (as couples do.) Then later, as we turned to a more lighthearted reality show ("Are You The First," a dating show for virgins) and I went to idly look at my phone, as one does, I discovered the touchscreen had become more or less borked.

This was annoying to say the least. Being without a phone -- unwillingly -- in 2025 is something like having a limb removed. You just feel incomplete, cut off from an appendage you, if not immediately require, may soon need. I made plans to find a place to repair it the next day, but things went awry. Because I know this blog -- as much as it's public record -- is little-read, I can tell you that Mel had a kind of panic attack (rare lately but not unheard of) and it was my duty to look after her. Fine, but not unproblematic. I can't be mad at her, obviously, but I can dislike the situation, both for how it affects her and how it affects me. If it had happened the day before it would be no problem at all.

I'm hapless enough -- the ultimate cause of my own misery -- without random events beyond anyone's control coming in to screw things up. Also, unrelated, the coffee maker -- at least its single cup function -- has decided to stop working, about 6 years in. Something to look into.

As of right now I still haven't gotten my phone fixed but I plan to imminently.

Last weekend was Thanksgiving, and it was... trying. Mel and I have had a few conflicts in recent weeks, far more than usual, the recurring theme seeming to be my own lack of mindfulness. My brain isn't always braining. I don't want to tell you exactly what happened, only that it was a truly bizarre incident that took on a self-sustaining life of its own as we were out the door, and led to a pretty frosty dynamic between the two of us all through the holiday. I'm not sure if anyone noticed (although I was beyond caring if anyone did notice I was distant and sulking) but there was a lot of to-do about the babies, and some about Hank, to distract everyone. So that was a real shame and put a damper on the day but we patched things up in the driveway on our way out the door, embracing and whispering apologies and words of love. It was good and for the most part the end of our problems, minus one or two flaps of various sizes later in the week.

One thing that had been a matter of some concern had been our plan to go on an overnight spa trip, as we had the previous few years. We had planned this months ago and even booked Mel's vacation accordingly. Somehow in all that time, with our minds on other things, we never got around to booking it, which caused a great deal of friction the week before the vacation was to occur. After a bit of sturm und drang, we did end up booking a spa day locally, at the very posh Pearle hotel in our very own Burlington. It ended up being a very nice time, marred only by a slight parking debacle that saw I thwarted in our attempts to part in a familiar lot (construction) or the next one (technological difficulties) before finally accidentally paying thrice for the place I did park, which is something that not wrongly (but also not un-hurtfully) got Mel rolling her eyes at me again. With me not drawing an income at the moment it was probably smarter not to make a whole overnight trip out of it (not that I have said this out loud.) My RMT ended up being a male, which was not my preference but was a fine experience and a quality massage (I dealt with the intimacy the way I deal with all forms of sensory input I might find in some way objectionable -- by reciting, over and over, the names of all of R.E.M.'s albums in chronological order, resetting when my concentration gets broken.)

After the massage we treated ourselves to some pita and dip (not hummus as it was made from white beans rather than chickpeas). Then we went to dinner at the Keg, where we had a very helpful waiter who assisted us in getting a slice of Billy Miner pie home before it melted.

That was a good day, as was time spent working on Hank's Halloween costume, finally at least making progress on it after months of idleness. We've been grappling with paperwork and bureaucracy relating to both the surrogacy and our mortgage which is up for renewal and needs refinancing.

I spent a lot of the week in thrall to possible moneymaking apps. I'm realizing what should have been apparent from the beginning, that they're worthless falsehoods, cons, ringtoss games. But hope springs eternal.

Hank has been weird lately. After walking him first thing in the morning he gets extremely hyper around 11 or so for a second walk. I wonder if this is a side-effect of his allergy medication, although it wasn't the case the first time he was on it. he was also unusually interested in going into the basement yesterday which he never really has been before. And of course, while I was picking up Kelsey's, he got into the unguarded garbage. Alas.

I think that about clears everything out, aside from the rest of the negative ickiness from last week. I'll write a bit. Today and this week have potential as I work toward getting back to some kind of routine and resume my job search (knowing that I will not be collecting untold thousands of dollars simply for watching ads.) And yeah, hopefully get my phone fixed.

Keep on rockin'

Scotto

29: Backward drawbacks

It's 6:56 PM on a Thursday night and I am at the mall waiting for Mel  to finish getting her nails done. I don't really have anything to do, so I'm doing this. I've procured for us some Chinese food for dinner. I'm not sure if we're going to eat it here or go home with it, but I got a drink and some utensils.

It's been a rough few days. There have been certain... gaps and malfunctions in my behavior that have caused friction. It's the sort of thing that happens in a relationship from time to time. I'm finding my nerves are raw. They're always raw but I think because I'm so anxious about not knowing where my life is going I'm probably more sensitive. Which doesn't help the fact that it's my fault -- or my brain's fault -- things go haywire. We learn other people to the best of our ability, and we work with them duly.

This weekend we went to dad's for his birthday, which was the usual long night of kibbitzing over nothing in particular, baseball mostly. Hank some. My unemployment only briefly. That was a fairly full night and we were looking forward to a relaxing day afterward, where we had planned to get some gelato from some place uptown. It ended up being a so-so experience and we shared a Gianduia-pear combo that Mel ordered and determined was too much for one person. And the pear was, well, it was pear gelato. Not really exciting but she thought it might contrast well with the hazelnut chocolate because she couldn't get her hoped-for lemon. Pulling out, I made a traffic faux-pas that rattled her, and then kind of sent our whole rest of day into a tailspin, leading me to my first of two existential crises of the week. I ought to be stronger but I'm not and when things get off course I tend to spiral badly. Nobody's allowed to be more mad at me than myself, nobody's allowed to hate me more, etc.

Well, we got through it but we had a recurrence this week when Mel expressed her frustration that we/I had dropped the ball on planning our week off and time ha slipped away from us. It was a little hard to resolve that one and quite honestly the ticket is still open. Given we have not, as of now, booked a spa day when we said we would, the potential is there for another round, which has my stomach in knots. This is going to take some negotiating.

We don't fight a lot, but everyone does fight some, and frankly we've probably fought so little, or I've always been so averse to it, that I've never gotten good at it. I can make peace, I can fawn, I can course-correct and make sincere promises, but to battle it out... I don't have the stomach for it.

Well, my free play is actually just about up so I'll come back to this later.

Keep on rockin'

Scotto

28: Falling Man

I don't think I necessarily need to underscore the idea that this is one of those post titles that actually has some significance. It's funny because when I was working, I felt like I was falling -- just constantly plummeting, heedlessly, due to splatter any moment. I feel it from time to time now too. Mostly I feel adrift, but there are times I realize the direness of my situation and I feel that weight, that pull of gravity.

The only real issue is not having a set direction. I have worked on much. I have accomplished some. I have placed my efforts in certain directions. But it can be hard to mark success especially because one's bank account doesn't grow. We are coming to the end of my nestegg and my good faith attempts to stave off the total depletion have not, as yet, taken.

Of course I need a job. Like, a job-job. All this other stuff is just a band-aid. Well, it's also to make me happy but it sure isn't profitable. There is some concern that I am not putting in enough effort to get that job. Not externally, at least not verbalized, but from myself. I could try harder. But it can't be all I do.

I have schemes.

Of course, my monetary contribution is not my only value. I'm majordomoing, although my lack of attention to detail leaves much to be desired. I'm a Hank-minder, gofer, cook and occasional -- very occasional -- cleaner and gardener. I don't always administrate very well.

There have been good times.

We've had a good couple of weeks. One victory is occasionally getting spot victories over the question of what to have for dinner. Last week we had pork roast with veggies, then a rotisserie chicken, then lasagna, which produced lunches, then used the leftover chicken and the leftover veggies to make a stir fry. This week I've done a breaded eggplant (with pork cutlets and pasta) and steak fajitas. Tonight is just going to be tortellini. Suppose I'll pick up a garlic bread.

This past weekend was a busy one. Friday night we went out to see Joe do the open mic at the Lion's Club, then got dinner with him and his friends at the Dickens, which hadn't gotten its night started as we arrived. The next day we went to see Unc and Sherlie and the Twins, ordering Mary Brown's chicken, taking the kids to the park, and then watching some movies and drinking iced coffees with dessert. Long night as always. Sunday we went to church with Nonna for the Papa mass, which also turned out to be Padre Pio Feast Day, which meant it was a lot more crowded there. We brought Hank to Nonna's and left him in his crate there (he's religiously unaffiliated as far as I know.) Then we had some lunch. Papa H had already declared his intention to get -- you guessed it -- Mary Brown's, which even learning we had had it the night before couldn't deter him. So we weren't excited but by the time it arrived we were ready for it.

We didn't stay too long, leaving just after Papa H did at 3 to go home and watch the Jays game (which they won, clinching the AL East.) After we got home, Mel napped for a bit and I whiled away time, which is sort of what I've been doing all week anyway. We had ice cream and then later, cheese-and-chips for dinner.

Tuesday this week, Mel had Tuesday off for truth and reconciliation. We went for Dairy Queen, which I know doesn't seem like an appropriate way to mark the occasion, but hey, Mel was off. We also worked out on Monday, with another on Friday, because our trainer got married last week. So it's been sort of a weird week in terms of structure.

I could probably stand to get my motivation up and become more productive. Call this week a write-off, but there's still potential to make something happen tomorrow.

Having marked all of that, this will be where I leave. Never has anyone spent so much time to do so little.

Keep on rockin'

Scotto