Day 246:
A rough start from the jump today, Conor... And as the day rolled along and as positive and as upbeat as I try to remain, I'm afraid it's sometimes in vein. I have a tendency to be a bit cynical, Son. Though I believe I'm hardly one you would call a cynic... I still see good in so many things in fact, but I also see the bad or, more specifically the bupkis, for lack of a better word. The more something smacks of contrived and disingenuous excuses, the more I realize what I'm dealing with is a person's inability to accept responsibility for whatever it is that's not gone the way they've wanted it to. Suddenly it's my problem... This is the point when I fall back to cynicism, Son. The point where I start calling things as I see them. And often in an argumentative tone.
Knowing I do it doesn't necessarily excuse it. Still, I could always roll along and just forget about the transgression, but where's the spice in that? So today, Conor, between heavy traffic and a late start at work, dealing with legal council and language nuances in reviewing the terms and conditions of my contracts, sideways conversations with prospective clients who ask for the World but offer nothing in return, by the end of the workday I'd just had it... All I could think about was some time with the Lion Heart and a glass or two (or three) of wine.
The ride home wasn't awful. Talk radio and animated opinions to feed my angst, but no matter, it was all radio personality stuff related to local area sports teams of which I fervently believe my opinion is the only one that matters, and if these yahoos would give me their jobs I'd improve both the credibility and the ratings of the radio station in question, but I digress...
The point is, while on my way to get you from school, little else more than the prospect of seeing you and NOT being at work would improve my somewhat dour mood. Though of course when I saw you, and you me, and that huge smile comes across your face and I'm suddenly completely disarmed.
Ahhhhhh, my dude! And I am, for the moment, happy.
We drive home without incident, fall into the daily routine of walking dogs, feeding dogs, playing with you, Mommy feeding you, Mommy bathing you whilst I make dinner; the routine. And as a part of that routine I crank up the tunes, Son. In this house it's music first, then whatever must be done can be, but to the beat. Except for one little thing... The internet radio I'm used to using wouldn't work. Couldn't get a connection to the internet? What's this???
I scramble throughout the house seeking out multiple mechanisms to confirm that, in fact, we're dark, Son. No internet. For me, this is cause for panic! How else am I going to write this blog? I followed all the standard operating procedures in terms of resetting the network, powering down the some 10 different mechanisms in the house... Nothing. Last resort? Call Verizon FiOS and get some help. Except they weren't much help at all... And guess where I am now, Son. Full blown cynic! And when the poor gal on the other end of the line told me it wouldn't be until Sunday before a repairman could get to the house (it's Thursday), I blew a gasket... More, I deflated completely before becoming extremely snarky only to later realize that any of this was no fault of the lass on the other end of the line. Hence the reason I try so hard to stay positive, Son. Of the good and bad within us all, the one that wins is the one you feed, Conor. And today, the bad was having a buffet!
Anyhow, here's to great neighbors as Geoff and Kelly Crowe were all to happy to give us the network details of their WiFi access point, and so, the day is saved and the blog is written...
And with that, Son... No television, pirated WiFi, it's time to count some sheep. And hope upon hope that my Friday is better than my Thursday!
I love you,Son.
-Dad
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