Concrete Disappointment
We’ve been waiting six weeks—all through the strike at local concrete companies—for the day to arrive when, at last, we can have the slab for the backyard studio building to be poured.
Unfortunately, it was raining this morning, so our concrete guy called at 5:45 AM to say that we needed to cancel delivery of the mud; now, we’ve got to wait another week and a half before we can try again—and hope that it doesn’t rain that day.
To top it off, it’s sunny now; had the pour been scheduled for this afternoon, I imagine it could have been done.
My question: how disappointed am I supposed to be about this?
After all, it’s not like this means the project won’t continue, and even more, it’s not like this means that anyone is dying or even injured or even emotionally scarred in any way, and yet, I do feel bad about the delay. I realize that anything I’m feeling about this is all my own doing, but it’s hard to shake it.
Small disappointments add up: UPS still hasn’t delivered the Saluki from the bike shop in Bend, Oregon where I left it after my stay there (it’s now almost three weeks since I expected it); the Rambouillet is still missing; my most recent haircut is a lousy one; and so on—these are all trivial matters, but when combined, induce grouchiness in me.
And then, I’m made grouchier still by the realization that I’m such a petty person that such trivial matters make me grouchy.
The key, I think, is to find the humor in this. And certainly, there’s something fairly amusing about being the sort of fellow who gets worked up about such things. If I were watching a movie about myself and saw foot-stamping and hand-wringing about these sorts of minor annoyances, I’d be cracking up.
It would only be really funny, though, if I were played by Johnny Depp.
Unfortunately, it was raining this morning, so our concrete guy called at 5:45 AM to say that we needed to cancel delivery of the mud; now, we’ve got to wait another week and a half before we can try again—and hope that it doesn’t rain that day.
To top it off, it’s sunny now; had the pour been scheduled for this afternoon, I imagine it could have been done.
My question: how disappointed am I supposed to be about this?
After all, it’s not like this means the project won’t continue, and even more, it’s not like this means that anyone is dying or even injured or even emotionally scarred in any way, and yet, I do feel bad about the delay. I realize that anything I’m feeling about this is all my own doing, but it’s hard to shake it.
Small disappointments add up: UPS still hasn’t delivered the Saluki from the bike shop in Bend, Oregon where I left it after my stay there (it’s now almost three weeks since I expected it); the Rambouillet is still missing; my most recent haircut is a lousy one; and so on—these are all trivial matters, but when combined, induce grouchiness in me.
And then, I’m made grouchier still by the realization that I’m such a petty person that such trivial matters make me grouchy.
The key, I think, is to find the humor in this. And certainly, there’s something fairly amusing about being the sort of fellow who gets worked up about such things. If I were watching a movie about myself and saw foot-stamping and hand-wringing about these sorts of minor annoyances, I’d be cracking up.
It would only be really funny, though, if I were played by Johnny Depp.
posted by Professor Dave at 1:33 PM
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