Night and Day

Relapse Post #3
Sometimes, 24 hours makes all the difference. What was an issue, now has an answer. What was unbelievable, is now within your grasp. What you didn't know yesterday is now a concept in full as you watch today's sunrise. Those are the 24 hours that change lives. This wasn't one of those times. But man that was dramatic, wasn't it?

Last night I went home to an empty house, ate a bowl of cereal for dinner, sat on my couch and looked at my homework - didn't really do any, and finally just went to sleep. It might have been 10pm.

Last night was one of those nights that affects a nearing middle aged person who knows he's missed opportunity and has ducked around his potential. A night where you riff back through the "I should have's" and the "I wish I had's" and try to figure out how you ended up wherever here is. It used to be called doing a little soul searching, but I guess now you might call it something different, it being the 21st century, but I don't know what. Rarely does this turn out well for anyone. It's a gateway feeling to depression.

I've had a great number of opportunities in my life. Probably more than most people. And I've stood there with my proverbial hands in my proverbial pockets and shrugged, like I had too much going on to be bothered. And as you get older, the excuses as to why you haven't achieved this, or gotten there, and made this happen start to run thin, if only to myself. Suffice it to say here is not where I intended to be. Way off. And so each opportunity for success or happiness starts to gain a little more value.

So this morning I woke up and futzed around the house. I futz around especially well on days I don't have class, because I really really really - really - don't want to go to work. I don't really like my job. I could crisply and efficiently get up, clean up and neaten, get showered and ready and actually be in the office by 7:30am....no issue. My alarm goes off around 5am. Well in reality, I actually wake up, refuse to crawl of bed, get showered, get on the internet, get ready, and then show up at the office on those days I can stay late a little closer to say ...9:30 or 10am? Did I mention I'm not really that happy with my job?

So this morning I'm on the internet, futzing around and looking at nothing: email, news, porn, whatever - when my doorbell rings. Which is odd. And they keep ringing it, all silly. I start to get a little perturbed.

It's Sporty.

God is funny like that. Because damn if my house isn't a pigsty. And I look like hell. But I'm still happy to see her, and she's apparently happy to see me. She looks beautiful. And she tells me I need to clean up.

My boy Tom, whom I used to walk with in the park, has a saying: "A good woman will make you want to do better. Make you want to be a better man." There's more to that saying but it's not really applicable here. In a large part, Sporty made me WANT to be better. I haven't met anyone else that makes me want that.

If she has time we're supposed to get together before she heads out again. Which would be cool. She told me the one thing she wanted to make sure of was that she saw me. And just to make sure, she ran by my house.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Still, to me it's betta than nothing.

Barkeep. Her drinks are on me.