Week 37 - Things Could Be Worse

 

Update – Last week wasn’t exactly me at the top of my form. I had a week off between paid assignments—plenty of time to write. Instead I mostly played games on the new laptop. That’s the only bright spot: I figured out how to fix the cursor’s zoom problem. Turns out it was software, not hardware. I went into Systems, found the Cursor section, discovered the Zoom box was checked, and unchecked it. Haven’t had a problem since. I was able to restore my missing Recycle Bin function using the same method. I’m still having minor issues with an overly-sensitive mouse pad, but I bet I just have to click or unclick a box there too and it’ll go away. Eventually I’ll get around to that.

I did start writing again—on Sunday, the day before my next assignment was due to come in. Now I’m beating myself up over a wasted week. At some point my subconscious and I will need to have a long-overdue serious talk.

$$$$

Anybody reading this, you just caught a break. Last night I had a bad bout of insomnia. Close to two early-morning hours of sleeplessness, bad memories, regrets, recrimination, self-pity and nearly-nonstop whining. I was going to share all that with you lucky people. But then it hit me: all things considered, I’ve got it pretty good. Yes, I can’t trust my car any more and I’m facing growing credit-card debt. On the other hand, I had uterine cancer but caught it early enough that all it cost me was removal of an organ that retired ten years before I did. I didn’t even need chemo or radiation treatments. I skated right through what could have been a life-altering—or life-ending—illness. I really have no right to whine about anything. No matter how bad I think things are, somebody somewhere has got it a million times worse.

Take, for instance, current Presidential candidate Donald Trump. He doesn’t have to be President—he absolutely needs to be President again, because without the protection of high public office, his butt will be going to jail. He’s already been convicted of a felony by the State of New York. Then there’s that little matter of January 6^th. The Supreme Court gave him a reprieve, but he can only fully dodge that bullet if he gets elected again. His flunkies are protecting him, but some in the party are beginning to sidle away. If he loses, guaran-damn-tee ya the whole passel of rats will jump ship, leaving him to sink on his own. He thought he had a shoo-in, but then Biden pulled a fast one and dropped out of the race, leaving Donnie to flounder against someone younger, smarter, browner and more female than he is. A popular female, with bigger, happier crowds at her rallies. I thought I suffered from insomnia? Donnie probably hasn’t slept well in months.

And now, on top of everything else, people are shooting at him.

When you look at it that way, all in all I have no reason to gripe. All I’ve got to worry about is paying bills, staying healthy, and taking the positive actions that’ll enable me to deal with the first two. I’m not facing national public humiliation or possible jail time. Nobody’s taking potshots at me. Not yet, anyway. The hardest thing I need to do is get off my ass and deal with life instead of whining about it. If I can do that, and avoid fomenting an insurrection against the US government, I should be okay.

Like I said, I’ve already gone back to writing. I have a couple side ideas I can try to work in. I’m not running for public office. Life is good. Especially for you folks. You just got an upbeat message instead of more whine with your cheese. You too can fix a zooming cursor now. No need to thank me. See y’all next week.