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All is confusion and disorder!

I’ve had my semi-regular identity crisis and have changed the blog’s name.  Third Drafts is meant to capture the in-progress nature of most of the site’s posts.  I’ve always used the blog to record interests and practice styles in pieces that have seen various degrees of crafting and editing.  Now, almost four years into blogging, I’m pleased to have generated a body of work that is more, though sometimes only by a degree or two, than amusing ideas in my head or scribbles in my notebook.  One day, I hope to draw some of these disparate sketches together into larger wholes — smoothed and polished and not drafted but done.  For now, though, the blog will continue being mostly works in various stages of completion.

I’ve made some cosmetic changes, too, because I wanted to shake things up a bit and simplify the look of the site.

Also, tinkering with all that stuff is a great way to avoid the contents of the rest of your life.

The blog is not the only thing going through some upheaval.  Normally, this is the time of year I’d want to be wrapped up in a blanket with a mug of hot liquid and a good book.  But it’s hard to enjoy the pursuit of comfort when everything around you seems wrong.

Owing to idiocy on my part, my bathroom has been leaking into the condo below me.  Now I have to get my shower re-done and repair the damage in the downstairs apartment.  Lots of silver linings can be seen here (new shower! legitimate excuse to stay home from work!) but I’m going to choose to focus on all the stress and unrest, though only temporary, this is continuing to cause me.  I’m also turning lemonade into lemons with gusto by feeling grumpy about stuff that is actually good.  For example, even though it’s not the fault of my downstairs neighbors, and even though so far they have been nothing but kind and understanding (way more than I would be), I still kind of hate them.

I curse you, shower, and can’t wait for you to be destroyed. Also, here’s a peak at my wet running gear, for those with an interest.

I curse you, shower, and can’t wait for you to be destroyed. Also, here’s a peek at my wet running gear, for those with an interest.

To illustrate how truly terrible the shower situation is:  Yesterday, I ran (really more jogged/walked) 22.7 miles in the miserable wet and cold.  (I was doing anything to avoid the numbing boredom of the treadmill, though it’s a tossup if that would have been better.)   It drizzled almost the entire time and the wind didn’t let up much either.  I wasn’t dressed appropriately because the internet told me it was done raining.  (Thanks, weather.com!)  As I was running across the bridge near my house, I thought for a few minutes it was snowing, until I realized it was actually the wind whipping raw water droplets from the bridge’s railing onto the footpath, where they were battering into my thin cotton shirt.

When I got home — after hours of enduring the crap described above — could I jump into a nice hot shower?  No, I could not.  I tore off my wet clothes, put on dry clothes, and drove to my grandfather’s house, 20 minutes away in the continuing rain, to use his shower.  I only fleetingly acknowledged the fact that I am lucky to have this option available but instead focused on the general inconvenience and discomfort to me.

As I type this, my legs ache and my once-broken foot is killing me.  I feel like my formerly cozy home has betrayed me and I’m nursing a whole host of worries (Am I going to get sick from yesterday’s run?  Is one of the repairmen who soon will be stomping through my place going to plot to rape and/or murder me?) and complaints (I can’t enjoy October because of all this!  Waaaaaaaaaah.)

I could readily list a whole bunch of positives related to these recent experiences.  (Here’s one: my running shoes were fitted so well a couple of months back that I rarely have blisters, despite being a newbie runner who is slow and doesn’t really know what she’s doing.  And another:  After the shower, I spent a comfortable evening on the couch watching Scream and g-chatting with the lovely G.G. Andrew.)

But there’s something to be gained from misery and disorder — there’s got to be, or else wtf — so what’s wrong with wallowing in it for a bit?

I’m sure something good will happen from all the annoyances I’m currently enduring and, whenever I figure out what that is, I just may stop complaining for a minute or two to appreciate it.

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One Comment Post a comment
  1. writerggandrew #

    “even though so far they have been nothing but kind and understanding (way more than I would be), I still kind of hate them.” Hahahaha! I know what you mean.

    October 7, 2015

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