Diary: Lost Weekend

[degringolade]

I didn't really do squat this last weekend. Sunday was especially bad. I am not really ashamed or anything, but the inability to let go of the idea that I must be doing something useful every day is sometimes annoying.

This weekend was a little odd in term of social contact. A call from a relative got sidetracked into a right wing rant. When I agreed with the description of symptoms everything was fine. When I pointed out that a lot of the symptoms were self-inflicted and that we need to spend some time cleaning up our own mess, I was pretty much accused of being Antifa. Strange and odd world. Apparently (and I apologize for missing this) we are a God-fearing country who only does the best that we can do and any criticism must be silenced.

So, after the call I relaxed. I did manage to talk myself out of drinking, as that would definitely not made anything better. So as I was relaxing, I got yet another call. This time an old friend who spent the entire time smugly telling me about just how perfect his life seems to be. This one was less an onerous duty, as it seems he is convincing himself as much as he is convincing me. I did listen and compliment, but I did realize that definitions of success vary widely, even among people who know each other well.

I think that I could have been more relaxed if I only received one of these calls a day. But back to back, it got a little hard to take. All involved are boomers, early and middle flavor and it seems that they are trying on different participation trophies to see which one looks shiniest on their mantles. I suppose that I do the same, but since my achievements are less physical and my physical assets are meager, it is more difficult to fully participate in the seeming important dick-matching that passes for bragging here in boomerland.