I think I am in a rut.
By a rut, I simply mean that things are not going smoothly – or as smooth as I wish they were. Some things are just plain going wrong.
My Tigers were supposed to be 10 games in front of the rest of the AL Central right now. But currently they wrestle to climb up from 10 games below .500. It's nobody's fault (except the players of course), it's just the way circumstances fell. Just plain bad luck.
My front yard looks more like a pasture than a lawn. It did not come up well this summer. We seeded, and thatched and weeded. But it just plain is not working. And ant beds seem to be migrating in and starting a thriving civilization. It's nobody's fault. It's just plain bad luck.
Our new black lab puppy Suzy just seems to love to chew things. Shoes, flower pots, hanging baskets, deck posts, air conditioner tubing and wiring. You name it. We have disciplined her to within an inch of her existence. We have scattered more chew bones than my daughter's have toys. It's nobody's (people wise) fault. It's just plain bad luck.
And maybe a missing page from the puppy training manual.
Our new house plumbing seems to be poorly done. With problems from the kitchen sink, to the dishwasher to the main floor toilet. They all have to be fixed. It's nobody's fault (except mine for not taking plumbing instead of computer science in University). It's just the way the circumstances fell. Just plain bad luck.
My knee surgery happened at the same time as Darlene's transition to full time disability. And therefore our cashflow is not as strong as it should be. It's nobody's fault, it's just the way circumstances fell. Just plain bad luck.
My new roll at work places me at the bottom of the food chain. And after all these years, I had higher expectations. It's nobody's fault – save some how I don't yet see it's my own. It's just the way circumstances fell. Just plain bad luck.
So here I sit.
Here I sit on the back deck, Suzy lying next to me. I'm in my swim suit typing out this list of things wrong with my life, next to the pool which when I finish this I will jump in with the girls and play a game of Marco Polo or water polo. The ice is all that remains in the lemonade and vodka I have every night after work, and the Tiger's game due to come on the radio shortly – which I will listen to as I barbeque up some hamburgers for our supper.
Maybe this is not really a rut. Maybe all these frustrations are just the price a guy like me has to pay to give my family, and myself, the kind of life we enjoy.
It's just not quite perfect.
You know, maybe I actually have it pretty damned good – and have no reason to complain.