Thursday and Friday I was saving up energy for Saturday and Sunday. Sure, I still cleaned and vacuumed and washed dishes. Sure I cleaned out the top part of the kids’ sink, because dear daughter’s hair clogs the tub AND sink drains. But I was saving up. Saturday I wanted to do things I HAD to do, Sunday I wanted to do things I WANTED to do, so I was saving up the energy and praying my back wouldn’t start hurting. It’s not terribly painful, but it’s been cramping lately right where the chiropractor needs to adjust it. And I’m not certain if it’s radiating downward from lower back, but it’s also bypassing THAT ASS, and attacking my left leg right at the top of the femur.
I have explained to my family, repeatedly, that they are in the habit of verbally correcting everything I say, which they immediately deny because when I say that, I am obviously wrong and need to see things more correctly… The kids probably picked up the habit from their mother, who seems to think everything I do is incorrect, insufficient, inadequate, and inane. That’s Latin for “stupid.” No, I’m only kidding. Inane is Latin for “void,” or “empty.” Probably some damned Latin teacher said that about his students, like, “…habitus et crania est inane.” Their “habits and skulls are void,” and it stuck until we say “inane” and mean “stupid.” Except we Americans misproblounce it. Say “in- ahh- ne.” “In- ayyn” must make the ancient Romans spin in their graves, but fortunately, many Americans are too inane to choose to use the word inane to describe anything, not to mention, it would probably be labelled as “bullying” the average dumb American.
They’d just call me “stupid” for suggesting anything was wrong because it’s less than it could be. Or wrong, so they’d match my familial contempt for all things Deon. So there you go. So far, the family doesn’t yet understand that constantly being told “you’re bad/wrong/stupid” does NOT motivate me toward success. What’s it been? 26 years? I was going to say there was a honeymoon period, but she hated our beach rental which we found while driving sight unseen.
I’m not trying to be a bully. I’m trying to educate and entertain. Sorry, I already know the attempt is feeble. But fuck it, tit for tat. So bully me and I may figure out a passive-aggressive way of bullying you back, or a snarky way to tell you you’re stupid (which is probably bullying).
I was saving up, and it didn’t matter. I had goals for the weekend and they didn’t matter. There’s a law of nature I experienced, or two, but I’m only getting to one today. Because I have stuff to do and then work for work. I got SOME of the things that needed to be done done, and ran out of energy and felt the pain in my hip and leg. I took frequent breaks, to the dismay of Mrs M, who thinks one should gut through and finish whatever the task is before taking a break. She’s right, but I can’t until this whatever it is, heals.
The law of nature is, “a nearly empty container will tend to remain nearly empty until you fill it, especially when steadily draining from it. I put oil in my wife’s car, and the container is now empty. It was a metaphor for me. Or is it a parable? Whatever. If I fill a gas tank a quarter-full, it empties quicker than if I fill it the whole way. I told my daughter her car wouldn’t start in the cold, not because it was cold, but because her phone charger was draining the battery. She didn’t immediately accept my recommendation, and responded like she normally does under these circumstances. I don’t know what I’m talking about, that can’t be the answer, etc. But after criticizing my suggestion, she unplugged the damn thing and wouldn’t you know it? Her fucking car STARTS now. Because if you drain the battery, however insignificant you think the drain is, eventually it won’t do what you want it to do because it’s dead.
My emotional oil tank is running on empty. My task-completing battery is nearly drained. It chugs and tries to start, and sometimes it just won’t. Something needs to happen to recharge them, or I’ll die.
The bills aren’t paid. The bank account won’t handle the house payment until next weekend. Sorry, home loan holders, although I know you desperately NEED some cash, you’ll have to wait until closer to the due date than you want. So they’re going to call me while I’m trying to answer my work phone. Every. Day. This. Week. I can’t fill that tank fast enough, because the hole at the bottom is so much bigger than the trickle at the top.
The tasks aren’t done. I can’t fill my energy tank fast enough because people keep borrowing from it, asking me to do shit that wasn’t already on my list. I have to do that, and then try to focus on what I wanted to do, or what I thought I needed to do. I can’t fill my energy tank fast enough because what I’ve already done was inadequate, insufficient, or done incorrectly so it needs to be done again, or done right. Criticism drains the tank. It doesn’t fucking matter if it’s so-called “constructive criticism.” It still drains the tank.
Life goes on, and I got up again today and took the dog out for a walk, and then wrote this that’s been in my head all weekend. I’m going to schedule a day off, and if I can get it, it’ll be this week or next week. I need it already, and we’re only in the second week of the year. Of course, you can’t fill the time-off tank fast enough because the company stole all the leftover time off hours they decline to roll over into the new year, so I’ll be told I’m not eligible for time off because there’s none in my “bank.” Fuck it, I’m going to ask anyway. I may ask for two. In a row.
My tanks have been running on empty for a LONG time. It’d be nice to be able to fill them. I have a little hope, or maybe I’m just delusional still because everyone is telling me it’s a brand new year that’s supposed to be full of possibilities. Anyway, I still feel kind of running-on-empty, but I’m riding that wave, and we’ll see. I hope you can fill your tanks to the top and enjoy a little margin and a little peace.