Monday, February 11, 2008

Monday Musings

Sometimes days don't go as planned. Sometimes weeks, months, and years don't go as planned either.

'The Lonely Room' by MickalAs I sit here letting my ramen boil (imported over the Rocky Mountains by the finest asian yaks) and wondering how I'm going to salvage my day, I know that the day is not at its best because I've contracted the lousy cold my family was cultivating over the weekend. I'm not whining about it. Colds come with Winter, my all time favorite season. After all, with a history of Depression, Insomnia, and a laughably silly immunity system I know far too well that this is the season for being sick. I know, also, that being sick isn't the only thing I'm dealing with. In fact, it is not even the worse thing I am dealing with. Right now, my brain has ceased functioning because of all the noise. Apparently, having my furnace and water heater replaced at the same time tends to produce noise. Lots of noise.

My daughter troops along with her online homeschool courses ("I'm sorry, Dad. I was only able to get nine classes done today."), but I'm afraid my AD/HD sensitivity to background noise is getting the best of me. There is a long list of things I should have done already, but I'm only now getting around to actually typing at my computer. Making business phone calls couldn't happen anyway while every vent in the house had suddenly become a intercom from the furnace room. Besides, the workers have taken over my studio.

I decided to make the best of it. At first, starting the day with a shower seemed like a great idea until I discovered they had turned the gas off thus making my shower a brisk experience. Afterwards, as I huddled over the glowing embers of my hair dryer, I realized that my music time was going to be impacted as well. I needed another plan.

How we deal with adversity defines our character. Since my mother tells me I am quite the character, I have often used humor to deal with my troubles so today was no different. Instead of getting mad, or irritated, or even mildly put out, I decided to record the pandemonium and turn it into a new Utterz. That lifted my spirits considerably. Then I turned to a book, Hayley Westenra - the Girl with the Golden Poop Voice, which was able to occupy my attention for at least two chapters.

Then I cooked ramen.

Which leaves me here twiddling my thumbs again while a team of very tired yaks looks on.

In the distance, three capable men jocularly yell orders at each other while they transform my domicile's circa 1543 furnace and water heater system into a central air and modern boiler paradise. The din is worth the price if I can take a shower in hot water tomorrow longer than 3 minutes. It's worth double the price if I can enjoy air conditioning over the upcoming Summer instead of a swamp cooler that would make only the Man-Thing comfortable.

As for making something of my day, I can't help but think about worse days I've had, and worse experiences. Over the years I've taken heat from many people for claiming I have AD/HD & Depression either because they didn't believe in AD/HD or Depression, or because they didn't believe I had AD/HD or Depression due to my lack of medication. All found it easier just to believe I was some sort of loser because I wasn't "gainfully" employed (being a full-time Father didn't count as a job), or I didn't fit well in their tiny little understandings. This used to upset me, but I've learned something that transformed my life and generally lets me deal with days like today or weeks like last week with aplomb: I learned to like myself. Despite the earnest efforts of many people in church, school, and beyond, I actually think Douglas Cootey is A-OK.

I may not be able to connect one thought very well next to the other, make much money, or more importantly work on my very large list of things to do, but as long as I can express myself with even a hint of humor I'll be alright with myself today. No anxiety because I'm a stay-at-home Dad. No fear that the workers, including my landlord, will think ill of me. I couldn't care less what they think, and you know what? I believe that enables me to get along with them better than I ever could have before.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to move my chair. They're coming through again.