My friends, am I angry this morning, specifically at technology and people’s poor grammar. All I’ve been trying to do for hours is set up some simple massages for our staycation this weekend, and some company and their App—touted highly by Google—refuse to work on my Apple devices and it’s driving me nuts. Of course this massage outfit is run by some entrepreneurs on the West Coast, and we all know what kind of cracker boxes they are. I’m tempted to just give up trying to arrange this, but I want a massage so badly, it’s been years since I’ve had one…I feel manipulated by this technology, which is flawed and I know it. It just makes people angry, angry, angry and that’s not what we want—or do we?
I’m going to have to resolve things the good old-fashioned way, with a phone call. Person-to-person contact with tech support, yet again. Isn’t there some funny movie about tech support that came out in the ‘90s? I’ll have to ask Michael, as he made a living in Tech Support at Nationwide until that vicious female mid-level manager drove him crazy. Ah yes, vicious, insecure women, fingers crossed Soothe Massage sends us a male masseuse (if I can ever get ahold of them today).
It’s a gray day today, kinda dreary, the hounds smell houndy, I dream of getting away somewhere, anywhere. I guess I’m glad we are doing this staycation in Dublin this weekend, and the gals are bringing furs for all of us, as temperatures will be in the 20s. I know some will be drinking heavily, but I’m prepared with trusty phone numbers for Shawn, AA friends, mom, etc. I presently feel secure in my sobriety, it’s just the spiritual malady I’m having trouble sifting through, but I’m trying my best and that’s all one can ask for these days.
I’m finding myself missing Andi, for she would know how to set up massages, technology be damned, she never owned a lap top, and only hesitantly embraced an iPad. Andi would always help me when all the others wouldn’t, she never turned her back on me when I slipped into mental health hell two decades ago. But alas, Andi did have her troubles, and descended into her own hell herself, moving away to Connecticut and dying before I could save her. I miss you, dear friend, you should be joining us on this Dublin staycation, rooming with me, we’d probably sleep in the same bed, just like old times at the Lake House…why did you have to die, why wouldn’t you embrace the Higher Power, why wouldn’t you just surrender to recovery and see the light? Oh where are you now, dear friend, flying in the flock of birds over my head on my way up Kenny Road to see Fetter?
Well I just talked to mom and my mood has improved on this Monday. Sincere conversation, better than any pill me thinks, lifts my spirits every time. Michael is on his way to Katzinger’s to secure vittles for our lunches this week. Sweet Michael, my steadying rock, and Mom, soothing my fears and cloudy moods. I’m blessed. Have a good day, friends. Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment