Saturday, March 04, 2006

Ok. So you're scared. You have no fun. You're bored.

That TV-Head-Shrinker says it's because you're a boring person. That there's no such thing as a boring situation. That it's up to us to make a boring situation, well, un-boring.

My ass. I'd love to put the THS in my situation, and see how un-boring he can make it. He wouldn't be able to talk to him. HE CAN'T HEAR AND WON'T EVEN TRY TO GET INTO THE CAR TO ALLEVIATE THE SITUATION!

THS wouldn't be able to go anywhere for more than 2 hours at a time. Just long enough to go and work off the stress at the gym. Certainly not long enough for a movie. You have to add the amount of time it takes to drive to where-ever you're going, and most movies these days are just about 2 hours long. Trust me, anything over that 2 hour mark, and you're facing the possibility of the urinal being full, along with his drinking glass, his pants, his chair, and the floor. There's also the bowel situation. It's always so much fun to come home and have to clean shit off the recliner, the floor, and his ass.

True, you could go to dinner. But considering the above situations that you face, every single time you leave the house, a nice relaxing dinner isn't even in the realm of possibilities. I, for one, am not going to spend $50 on a good dinner, only to throw it up once I'm back home taking care of one of the above scenarios.

But, there IS the gym. Oh, thank TPTB for the gym. All those lovely weight machines that help you sweat, get your heart rate up, and all that wonderful anger that comes flowing lovingly out of your limbs, and into the equipment, where it stays, ready to attach itself to the next person in line.

And the jacuzzi. To hell with your phobia about public tubs. Who cares if someone pee's in it. You shower at the end of your date anyway. All that lovely, hot, bubbly liquid elixir, swirling around you, telling you to just soak. Lean back. Close your eyes. Screw everything else in your world, this is YOUR time.

Then the sauna. Dry heat of course. Laying back on the bench, with the towel rolled up for your pillow. Just breathing. Deeply. Concentrating on the breaths coming in and out of your nose. Just melting into the wooded slats supporting your tired, achey, overweight body. Bliss. This is what you perceive as heaven. No one yelling for you. No one wanting something from you. No one interrupting the task you are trying to complete. Silence. Blessed silence. And then the dream you have of traveling the States kicks in.

Just you, the road, and probably a dog. Boxer? Lab? Sheppard? Who cares. It's the freedom to go where ever you want, for how ever long it takes to get there. Not having to worry about anything other than the driving conditions and weather. Hotels. Bless-ed Hotels. With their maid service, room service. Not having to wash a damn thing other than yourself and your clothes. No beds to make, laundry to do, cooking and dishes. Just you and the dog. With YOU being first at all times.

Yes, the dream. That's the only thing getting you through this. Knowing that when the time comes, you can sell everything, split the money with the sibling, and just hit the road for adventure. Meeting different types of people. Seeing places that you aren't even aware of. Open road, green hills and blue sky. And Vermont in the fall.