Saturday, February 16, 2013


Spent the day doing office work.  Moved an office.  Thanks for the help.  Oh, wait.  You didn't help.  How embarrassing for you, the way I accidentally pointed out just now what a let down you are to me.  Fortunately there were a few real men to stand up and give a hand.  Look into it.  It's called "being a stand up guy."

And when I say "moved an office,"  I mean we physically lifted it up and moved it, about 20 feet.  It was nice to have some help.  Went pretty smoothly, all things considered.  I tried to avoid any position of responsibility, but someone has to be in charge.  It would have gone better if I'd used bolts instead of screws, and braced up the open side.  I didn't because of the time factor, and because I didn't really have the tools -- a drill with a dying battery, and I can't find any of the chargers.  I did look.  Used some dollies the roll it along, and had to modify them first.  A bit precarious, but I had anticipated the possible failures and their options.  I'll be fixing and cleaning all day tomorrow.

Met the wife of someone I know today.  I'd known her before, and she came up to me all chatty, and I had this odd moment of having to be friendly with someone I didn't remember and only faintly recognized.  It's not panic, but it's surreal.  Reality is other than we expect it.

I've got a limp, in both legs.  The hip spasms now and again if I step wrong, and the other leg is just weird, and I've got a pretty obnoxious pain in my back in that old place, but it's not the same problem.  Do I seem to complain too much?  Well, I don't really talk about it, so I write it.  Don't think you can make me apologize.  I'm explaining, as a courtesy.

I started the day in a great deal of physical pain, and in a profound depression, both of which wore off. Pretty sociable day.  So here's what I have to say about that.  You just thank your lucky stars, that you're passably normal.  I do have a few friendships, but I have no intimacy, and that is a profound deficit for a human being.

I miss having a family.  I miss the low rumble of kids playing well, with the occasion need for active supervision, arbitration.  I like to be generous, and kind and patient, and I like being firm and patient.  I like being around other people's families -- I'm really not "Uncle Jack" any more, my nephews are all grown up, and this is as close as I'm likely to get ... unless and until my son gets married.  This is what I mean, when I talk about normal.  It seems to be beyond my grasp.


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