I’ve been blogging about affairs of the heart in an effort to avoid my favorite subject: work.
Not that I’d ever do anything to get positioned to get Dooced again. Had enough of that, thanks.
We’ve been SO busy. I mean, I work till 8 and have to drive almost an hour to get home. Last night I wolfed down some dinner, turned on Rachel Maddow, and was in bed during the 9 p.m. hour.
I realize that I have completely lost my 30s. Waiting for this or that guy. Waiting for this or that project or promotion. Waiting for all the annoying stuff to just stop already and the good part to begin.
Met a nice guy who is staying at my neighbor’s apartment. Don’t get any ideas — he’s in his 60s and probably gay. 🙂 But his health was frail and he was just downsized from his job, so my neighbor who lives in New York for most of the year (who just had a heart attack and is stuck there for now) let him stay at the Florida condo for a week and hired him to do some work around the house. (What a nice guy.)
And I realized, as I often do, that wishing away this time … waiting for better times … doesn’t necessarily result in better times. Time gets shorter, health gets more-fragile, opportunities don’t come around as much as they used to.
I can’t fix people. And if I can’t fix myself, then I need to enjoy this adventure a little more because the merry-go-round is spinning faster and I don’t have it in me to jump on if it throws me off again.
Something big has to happen. I hear of some new projects coming about. I really, really want to be a part of them. I just hope that when the ride slows down, I can easily hop onto the next one without falling in between them and busting my kneecaps.
Moreover, I hope it’s not like last time when I gave my heart and my ideas and got thrown off without the ride even losing momentum.
Trust is the trickiest currency of all.