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First it was just one tool, a nail gun, which he took in stride because of all that had been going on over the last few years, particularly the last month, but then when he needed a screwdriver, he realized that it was also the van filled with tools that was missing, which did bother him because not only was his work vehicle now gone, but because of the recent break-ins, he’d thought it smart to lock up every hand tool of any value in the van, which meant that they, too, where now gone; but the final straw of the day came with the phone call, when he learned that his house would now disappear in 86 days, a truly devastating blow to his morale, unless, of course, he was able to rustle up some quick magic, which we all know by now, no longer means magic, but money.
July 17, 2006 at 8:11 AM ::
yes, one of the three main motives of humanity, sex drugs and last but not at all least, money; which, for the self-employed, is often the same as time, don’t you think?
goliard on 07/17/06 at 09:53 AM ::
Words fail me. I just wish the Fates would stop pissing on you. It’s entirely unfair.
'mouse on 07/17/06 at 09:59 AM ::
Oh, I thought everyone knew. I just say no to all three of those things.
I also say no to time, but of course, it doesn’t listen.
Keith on 07/17/06 at 09:59 AM ::
I thought all day yesterday on whether or not I should write about any of this mayhem that’s going on, and couldn’t come up with a good answer. On one hand, it seems important to capture the moment somehow, being as it is easily, by far, the lowest point of my somewhat questionable economic history. But then, on the other hand, I really dislike the whole sympathy thing, which a full entry detailing the events would be sure to shake loose from people. It’s not that I don’t appreciate sympathy, I’m not saying that, but it somehow just seems like an incredible waste of time and energy. It somehow makes me tired, if that makes any sense, and if everyone knew about everything that went on around here, they would understand how very tired I already am.
Of course, this is mostly true of everyone’s life. We’re all tired in some way, and if I believe that, then writing about my own woes only seems more self-centered and a waste of time.
I think what it comes down to is that at 45, I have up until this point lived a fairly easy and charmed life. Nothing extravagant, but things always seemed to fall into place without much thought or effort at all. I just have to believe that the scales are being balanced a bit.
I do, however, remember being told that at some point life is all downhill. I used to worry about that a little, but these days, I’d give just about anything for a break from this steady uphill climb.
Keith on 07/17/06 at 10:11 AM ::
Since I know you dislike that whole sympathy thing, I will, in a sense of fellowship, share with you my favorite Fay Weldon line (from the short story “Watching Me, Watching You”, about a writer and his family): Checks race through the door in fits and starts; bills arrive with a slow and steady beat. It is a tortoise-and-hare situation, and the tortoise always wins.
Here’s hoping that the hare comes through for you, and you will get to live the life-equivalent of riding down a steep hill in an unstable but really boss go-cart.
bakerina on 07/17/06 at 10:52 AM ::
what the hell??????
e on 07/17/06 at 12:11 PM ::
To take nothing away from your coping mechanism, I prefer not to think about the whole “white male in the year 2006 in America who’s had relatively smooth sailing to this point in life” karmic debt, thank you very much
'mouse on 07/17/06 at 12:56 PM ::
dear keith, i think your sense of security has also been damaged by these break-in’s, and rightly so: thank you, for the part of the story you’ve given, and the part you’ve yet to give. i wait patiently.
goliard on 07/18/06 at 03:13 AM ::