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Becoming a Curmudgeon
The not-fun part is that I am in the out-of-body stage of my process in dealing with this unpleasant personality trait. Meaning, I watch myself in full cranky-butt mode without any ability to dial it back except to escape to an empty room and think on my sins. Which is also not-fun, but at least I’m not annoying anyone else while I’m adding up the counts for each offense.
So far, I’ve got:
- 4 counts of arguing as long as it took to wear the other person out in order to be “right.”
- 3 counts of complaining about the doctor appointment scheduling process after waiting for 90 minutes on hold only to learn they were trying to schedule an appointment for something I’d already had an appointment for.
- 16 counts of heavy sighs in reference to something my husband did imperfectly or not to my standards.
- 32 counts of rolling my eyes out of exasperation, coupled with this recurring phrase running through my mind: “What an idiot.”
- 6 counts of resentful thoughts about having to detangle caregiver logistics so that my husband and I can go out with friends for dinner, which we never do anymore because I’ve become totally picky and paranoid about which night we go out on, where we go, and whether there will be alcohol involved, and if not, deciding whether to carry or not. It’s complicated.
- 22 counts of failure to trust in what The Almighty HAD JUST SHOWN ME as soon as I walk out of my prayer room.
- 14.5 counts of suspecting loitering persons at the gym who are dressed from head to toe in black, including a black face mask, of planning some nefarious act of violence against the innocents in their ridiculously tight and “inappropriate for an over 50-year-old woman to wear in public” leggings … along with the guys who don’t look scary, and complaining about the loiterers and their “against the rules” backpacks to the people at the front desk. I’m known as “Oh, herrrrr.”
- 5 counts of neighborhood cruiser monitoring, meaning I watch for cars driving slower than normal that slow down even more as they move from porch by porch, presumably looking for packages they can steal. The last two slow-cars stopped in front of our house while I stood on the front porch with my arms folded, trying to look intimidating. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds … like, “Yeah, I see you too, sweetheart.”
- And finally, 227 counts of redoing my husbands housework behind his back because it’s easier for me to just do the job “right.”
Today I went to the gym. Oh, I forgot. Add two more counts to the “persons loitering at the gym” offense. Anyway, one of the trainers there, Wardell, asked me if I’d made any New Year resolutions. I gave him an unwarranted snark-toned answer.
“Nope.”
He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. He’s no dummy.
“Just taking it a day at a time. Good to see you.”
And I walked off and down the stairs and left the building and immediately tried to break into a car that was not my own.
It’s the second time it’s happened. I have a new SUV, and it looks like every other grey SUV on the road. Some guy across the parking lot started laughing.
I deserved it.
P.S. On an unrelated topic, please pray for Damar Hamlin. It feels like this is something pivotal, a God-movement in the making, a long-missed display of unity in love, and prayers without ceasing from millions of people. He hears yours, so please take a moment to think on Damar, a young man with good character who has inspired many … and I venture to say that most of them don’t even realize why.
The young man has Christ in him.
Published in General
Welcome! We’ve been expecting you.
Are you asking me a question????
I’m at a loss for words in commenting about this post. Perhaps “Perfect!” is all I can add.
I’m reminded of a story about the Eagles. One of the reasons they broke up was irritation with Glen Frey and Don Henley. Apparently, after every album was ‘done’ they’d go back and re-record lots of the vocals in secret because the original versions weren’t up to their standards. Curmudgeons come in all ages.
If I look at an old comment or post of mine and see something wrong, I correct it. No wonder my wife gave me a tee shirt that says, “Ornery Coot” . . .
Hah! That’s funny. It appears I may have unwittingly tapped into a previously undiscovered vein of curmudgeon empath-ists.
Loved The Eagles. For some reason I can see Henley doing that.
Oh no! You’ve put the idea my head!
Only 16 counts? Did you get married very recently? I assumed it was part of a wife’s duties to point out every flaw and mistake her husband makes, no matter how small.
16 is the daily count. 😉 I’m working on it!
Nothing hotter than a dutiful wife!
Yeah, they were both perfectionists. Their original bassist Randy Meissner and lead guitar Don Felder (who replaced Bernie Leadon) both ended up leaving the group after run-ins with them about their controlling natures.
You are correct, Sir!
Yikes. That’s too bad.
I seem to recall hearing that when the band got back together, it was made clear that Henley and Frey were the Eagles, the rest of the band were just employees. Glenn Frey seemed to think it was an act of charity to allow anyone but Don Henley to do lead vocals when recording a new album.
The best story about the reunion (the “Hell Freezes Over” tour) was when they called up Joe Walsh and told him the band’s getting back together, but he needed to sober up or he was out.
Fascinating — I just discovered that the Eagles songs we covered (which I sang) were all voiced by Glenn Frey. I didn’t pick them, and did not know.
They had multiple good vocalists. Randy Meisner and Timothy B. Schmidt were terrific.
Speaking of vocals, Seven Bridges Road is a beautiful song because of the harmony:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hufU6MIS2vw
So, what you’re saying is he should do less housework to bring those numbers down. You should confide in him. I’m sure he’ll be receptive.
Cracking me up! No, I think this should be our little secret.