I am sick and damn tired of living in daily dysfunction. Here is the crisis du jour, which actually is in mid-week status since the raw sewage backed up through the shower for the second time in two weeks this Sunday:
I am trapped here for the duration of my doctoral studies. I can’t find a quiet place on campus or in any restaurant or coffeeshop in the Atlanta metro area to do my homework. Strange men in muddy workclothes or members of my family continually waltz through my living room and interrupt me. If I ask not to be interrupted, everyone wants to know why I’m in such a bad mood, or it is pointed out to me that this is someone else’s house (even though I pay rent for the use of three small rooms and a 3/4 bath for two adults, a dog, and a cat). If I point out that there is something completely dysfunctional happening here every single day, I’m told that that’s the definition of life. I say bull. I say we can do better. In isolation, any one thing is no big deal. But around here, SOMETHING is always amping up the crisis/ just-one-quick- interruption level, and I just can’t take living in a Skinner box anymore.
So forgive me if I am in a foul mood, exhausted, completely distracted, or otherwise not smiley when you see me around campus. THIS IS WHY. And believe me, there is ALWAYS something like this going on that is clearly of far greater importance than my reading for my doctorate or writing or having any semblance of my own damn adult life.
On the bright side, the work guys killed the copperhead that bit the dog.