Ten Days

As an experiment as well as a writing exercise, I have decided to keep a running log of the ten days leading up to my 37th birthday so that all of you can have a snapshot-like window into my normal life, but also as an overall snapshot of what most life is like these days in the few weeks leading up to Christmas. Christmas is a really hectic time of year for myself as well as the wife and the family, and generally a lot happens over the holidays that I spend multiple posts writing about (see previous years of this blog for examples).

As my birthday is five days before Christmas, I also tend to get the shaft on a lot of birthday festivities, whether that's by my choice or someone else's. Last year, for example, I was so incredibly depressed on my birthday that I don't think the wife and I really did anything -- I sat in my office most of the day and was inexplicably sad and angry. I hated life, I hated myself, I hated everyone and everything -- all on the one day of the year that is supposed to be all about me. I didn't want festivities, I didn't want presents, I just wanted to be left alone to my own devices.

Sometimes I want a big celebration and pomp and circumstance, but most times I don't. It depends on the year and how rough the year has been on me physically and psychologically. As of late, I have tended to not make a big deal about my birthday -- I haven't really wanted to in years. I thought it was cute and somewhat sweet that Daisy and her parents always wanted to, though. For us "kids," they always want us to pick where to go or what to do or what to eat for dinner, etc. There's generally a cake and at least one present and even though it's wholly unnecessary, I always have found it very nice and sweet.  It's something I've always tried to do for Daisy as well. But yeah, some years I want it, some years I don't. Even on the years I don't, I tend to play along as I generally end up enjoying it.

What are the plans for this year? Read along...


Tuesday, December 10
For some reason (I couldn't tell you why, it's just one of those random things I've had stuck in my head for 30-plus years now) I always remember that December 10 is the birthday of a girl I went to head start with in 1987. Her name was April. I could not tell you where she is now or what she's doing, but I did briefly catch up with her one time in my early teenage years, where I shocked her with my recollection of her birthdate. She was cute. I really hope she got out of opiate-ridden rural West Virginia when she had the chance. Anyway, this year on December 10, I got up and went to work -- where I was immediately saddled with one of the worst "not our problem" issues I've had to work in months (which I was forced to own all night), found out that our entire program's PTO balances were fucked up and had not been updating in the system since December 1, dealt with multiple systems failures when the IT staff tried to implement a server failover (which failed and they had to roll it back), had some paperwork rejected for one of my employees' raises, and went home bitter and angry the next morning. I also received a Christmas card in the mail from my aunt, uncle, and cousins. December 10 also marks forty days since I last shaved my beard.


Wednesday, December 11
When I awakened in the afternoon, I found that my mother has informed me via text message that she mailed a box of birthday/Christmas presents to me and Daisy; I informed her, in turn, that because I have USPS Informed Delivery, I can see that and that the box is set to arrive on Saturday. I returned to work that night with a small sliver of hope that it would be better. Daisy asked me in the car on the way there what I wanted to do for my birthday. I responded that I didn't know and to let me think about it for a few days. I arrived in the office to find that we were down four people and our second Program Director for the night, engaged on another issue our team should not have had to deal with, and found/researched a solution that should have resolved the problem within twenty minutes -- something that our daytime Director couldn't even do. Unfortunately, I was removed from the email trail so I lost track of what happened to the actual issue. At 11:12 PM, we entered the last full moon of the year, and I braced for a godawful night after that. Thankfully it didn't come, and while I had to engage on a few more issues throughout the night, I also got to spend two hours with my escalations colleague (as the maintenance crews were bug-spraying his office area upstairs). I was also able to go home in the morning on time and without incident.


Thursday, December 12
I awoke in my chair dazed and cold after but five hours' sleep, which is about the maximum my body will let me get anymore (as I've mentioned here before). I unboxed my Amazon arrivals (around-the-house supplies/groceries), fed the cats, and played a video game on my computer for a bit. I found that a company I'd applied to work for wanted to set up an interview with me, and I relayed my available times and dates. I stripped the bed and washed the sheets and blankets. I washed all of my own laundry as well, and did a load of Daisy's for good measure. I loaded and ran the dishwasher, and drank some coffee. In the evening hours, I went to the gym with the wife, and after coming home, banished her upstairs so I could cook us dinner -- something I rarely get the chance or have enough energy to do. I made us spaghetti and vegan garlic bread grilled cheese sandwiches. I did not find out until after I'd eaten my sandwiches that the cheese I used was moldy, which Daisy enlightened me to. Neither of us suffered any ill effects. Afterwards I showered, trimmed up my beard, and passed out upstairs in my chair for three hours. I awoke shortly before she was getting ready to shower and go to bed, and applied for six more jobs with a local company I've been trying to get interviewed and hired with for literal years. Daisy went to sleep and I spent the overnight hours reading, playing my computer game, and listening to podcasts in my earbuds before joining her in bed around 5:30 or so.


Friday, December 13
Ah, Friday the 13th. It generally tends to be a good day for me, historically, no matter what the month or time of year. I awoke around noon (again, my body only lets me get 5-6 hours of sleep at a time) and found the sun shining but the pavement and driveway outside wet. Checking my texts, I was able to deduce that when the wife went to work in the morning, it had been sleeting and the roads were completely black ice. I went downstairs, fed the cats, made some food, and settled in for episode 6 of The Mandalorian, as I am a proud Disney+ subscriber (bought the year-long package, naturally). I returned upstairs where I played my computer game for a bit, did some online shopping, and nearly fell asleep in my chair before the wife came home. We spent some quality time together, and she relayed that she wanted to go to Home Goods, something I vaguely remembered her mentioning the previous night -- so I got up, threw on some sweats and my shoes, and away we went. On the way, I got into a battle of attrition for our normal Pokemon Go gym, which put me into a sort of cranky mood for the night. Daisy was cranky too, and the Home Goods experience was overwhelming and frazzling us both. We returned home (after a yelling match in the car) to make up, Daisy cooked dinner of (fake) turkey, soy chorizo, potatoes, and gravy, and we watched two episodes of The Flash before she went to bed. I summarily returned to my room where I confirmed my interview time of Tuesday afternoon for the job who wanted me to set up a time, played a game or two on my phone, and eventually joined her in bed in the early morning hours before sunrise. This day also marks one week until my birthday. Daisy again asks me what I'd like to do for my birthday. I again reply that I do not know, that I did not have anything in mind offhand, and would like to know the schedule of when her sister's family would be arriving in Omaha before we put any real plans in stone.


Saturday, December 14
I finally figured out, all on my own, what I wanted to do for my birthday -- I would finally, after months of putting it off and never having enough time to do so -- get my Starfleet tattoo on my forearm, a tattoo I've wanted for literal years:

It is maybe 90 minutes of work and shouldn't cost more than $100 or so, and the time I took off work for the holidays should allow me to be able to recover, heal, and take care of it afterwards. Getting said tattoo hits all the birthday beats as well -- getting out of the house, doing something special/different, and (of course) the tattoo is the present. I tell Daisy -- who has known my plans to get this tattoo eventually for some time -- and we begin researching parlors/studios with open appointment time on the 20th. I tell no one else.

That afternoon, we went to go get my flu shot, did grocery shopping, and then returned home where Daisy spent the evening rearranging the closet and picking out which clothes to put into the donation bags and which ones to keep. This lasted until after 6AM, at which point we both went to bed.


Sunday, December 15
Five days away
I sent an inquiry to one of the tattoo places here in town to get an estimate on pricing and to possibly set up an appointment for Friday, and woke up to about two inches of snow on the ground. After going through my normal Sunday routine of getting a bit to eat, showering, watching some football, and taking care of work email, Daisy was kind enough to shovel the light snow off the driveway and I went to work in the bitter cold, dressed in multiple layers. I arrived to find that it was dead as fuck and my team had about 25% of the workload they normally would have on a Sunday night, so I spent the overnight hours taking care of almost all administrative tasks I had on my docket. PTO for myself and my team is still fucked up in the timecard systems, but I was able to approve all payroll (as I do every other Sunday night on alternating weeks). I came in second place in my fantasy football league for the year, and received a $55 cash payout. Daisy arrived 25 minutes late to get me in the morning, and I came home to eat and pass out. On top of all of this, I took the best picture of myself I've taken in years thanks to a Snapchat photo filter. Also -- this day marked forty-five days with my beard, and marks around the time I began desperately hoping for a December heat wave so that I could shave it off.


Monday, December 16
Four days away
I awakened to find that three of my employees weren't coming to work; one was in the hospital and the second was out for undisclosed reasons, and the third called out sick about half an hour before his shift was to start. The scotch tape I'd ordered from Amazon to wrap Christmas gifts arrived, as did my parents' Christmas package for me and the wife. In it was a scented candle and an expensive stovetop griddle thing from the cookware company we love, amongst other little odds and ends. I received a response from the tattoo place, who said that they would be happy to do my tattoo but to call the shop to consult with the artist who is there on Friday -- or just do a walk-in to their sister shop a few blocks over. I made a mental note to call the guy and discuss it with Daisy, as if I don't just bite the bullet and do it now, it'll either never happen or it won't happen anytime soon. I checked my work email and found that I'd won a Christmas prize that I could pick up from the prize room/table/wall, which reminded me that I needed to bring in the Christmas gifts I had for two of my coworkers. I don't generally shower before work on Mondays, so I began my normal routine of caffeinating myself, finished up the laundry around the house that needed to be done before Daisy got home, and I went to work for the night. I arrived at work to be bombarded by shit all night -- partially because I had three people on my team call out, my boss wouldn't approve calling in overtime help, and I came home in the morning bitter and twitchy.


Tuesday, December 17
Three days away
Before I went to sleep in the morning, my executive director (read: boss's boss) texted me and asked me to call him. Generally this means I'm about to get yelled at about something. Instead, I called to find out I'm getting a (federally mandated) raise of...wait for it...approximately $200 per year. Cool cool, that'll go right into taxes, but yay for money and for not getting yelled at. I awoke early in the afternoon (via alarm) for a phone interview with a company I actually want to work for, to find about ten minutes after I woke up that Daisy had come home on her lunch to make sure I woke up for said interview -- which I found very sweet of her. The interview went well (I'll find out more about next steps and when/if they want to move forward in the process by the end of this week, because Christmas), Daisy returned to work, and I unboxed some Amazon shipments that arrived and took a shower. I also put serious thought into shaving off my beard after Christmas, especially if I have a job interview I'll have to look, ahem, more presentable for. Anyway. I went to work, where I remained moderately busy for most of the night, before returning home in the morning and falling asleep in my chair after breakfast.


Wednesday, December 18
Two days away
Last working day before holiday vacation
I awoke in the afternoon to some of the worst allergies I've had all year, and immediately took allergy meds and began caffeinating myself for the long night of work ahead of me -- the last night before any PTO or vacation time I take is always excruciatingly long and tends to be filled with bullshit that I don't want to have to deal with because I'm already "checked out." Truthfully, I've been "checked out" for the last week or two and I just tend to be able to hide it considerably well at most times. Daisy told me that she has almost zero Christmas shopping done for me or for anyone else (aside from what we've already gotten for the family), and I told her that she does not need to worry about anything for me -- just cover the tattoo costs for my birthday and I don't need anything else. Because she took Friday (my birthday) off, Daisy has been swamped at work all week and has been working late almost every night, and is beginning to get frazzled anyway -- I didn't and don't want to add any more stress there. As a pre-birthday treat to myself, I logged onto Amazon and purchased a tub of Hustle Butter -- supposed to be really good for pre and post-tattoo care -- and a print subscription to The New Yorker because it was $5 and makes me feel erudite. I went to work to find (surprisingly) very little to do, and full staffing. I spent the night finding creative ways to kill time, and, well, soak up paycheck. I put up my out of office messages on my phones (yes, I have more than one) and on my email, and very gleefully went home at the end of the night to watch the latest episode of The Mandalorian during breakfast before going to bed.


Thursday, December 19
One day away
First night off of Christmas vacation
I awoke around 2PM in my chair -- I know, common theme; I barely get any restful sleep anymore -- and got up to begin working around the house. I did two loads of laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, reloaded it, and ran it, played a game on my computer, and did some phone stuff before Daisy came home (late) from work. She wanted to order us some vegan dinner from one of the vegan restaurants in town, but couldn't because it was too late. Instead, she made nachos for us and we ate them while watching the Democratic debate -- the last one of the year. Afterwards, we came upstairs to go to bed, and she took a shower; I summarily, once more, passed out in my chair. When I awoke a few hours later, it was already past midnight and my birthday had begun.


So, there you have it, folks -- a pretty standard ten-day stretch of my life. Today also marks 50 days since I last shaved my beard (it is driving me crazy) and I plan to keep it at least through Christmas and the new year -- if only because of the cold.

This is a big day, of course. I'm in good spirits, which is a huge turnaround from last year on my birthday, and this afternoon I'll be going to get my Starfleet tattoo. I have already shaved the arm (I'm getting it on my inner left forearm between the wrist and elbow) and have moisturized the skin so that it's all ready to go, so now it's just watching the clock tick down until noon when the place opens. It will probably hurt like a son of a bitch, but oh well -- it's something that I've wanted forever for many reasons, and if I'm really happy with it, maybe it'll be the first of many. Fuck it, at this point I'm headed toward 40 and need to live a little -- I have now officially entered my late thirties. 

I have accomplished very little over the past year. In the entirety of my life, I'm not sure there's a year where less has happened, to be honest. By year, I mean December 21 to December 20 -- that stretch of time only. The only real event that happened during this time is that the wife and I celebrated being married for five years and went on a road trip up through South Dakota (which I wrote about here earlier this year), and we had our retaining wall collapse and got it fixed. The anniversary is a milestone to be sure, and five years of marriage is an accomplishment in itself, but that is a continuing goal, of course. Aside from that, it's not like there were any major "life events" specific to me, or anything like that -- I didn't get a new job or new car, no new pets, no children, no major deaths in my circle of people I know and/or love, etc. But, at the same time, no illnesses or debilitating medical conditions have set in, and I haven't gained back any of the weight I've lost (I've actually maintained the same weight all year, within 3-5 pounds at all times). My 36th year on the planet was simply another year of plodding along. Sometimes plodding along is fine, but when I can look back on the year and see nothing different -- better or worse -- than where I was a year ago today, it is understandably a little frustrating when you remember that I live by the code of "make yourself a little bit better every day."

I guess you could say that the tattoo signifies a sort of change, perhaps -- a life change it's surely not, but it'll be something different.

The remainder of the day's plans entail going to the parents' to see them for a bit before all the family comes into town for Christmas (I believe they arrive tomorrow) and to pick up pizza for dinner from our favorite pizza place. Daisy wanted to know if I wanted to do anything else special on my day, and I told her no, all of that was fine. As much as I like being the center of attention and in control of everything, that's more than enough activity for me in my old age.

It is not lost on me that my birthday marks the release date of The Rise of Skywalker -- and I could go see it today if I wanted to, I'm sure (there are a ton of showings all day today at any and all local theaters in town) but I'd rather not fight the rabid crowds to do so. For most movies, especially the Star Wars films, I wait a few days for the crowds to die down and then Daisy and I go see the movie at like, 10:30 in the morning on a non-busy day. However, since Christmas is five days away, I doubt there will be any non-busy days while I'm off, and to avoid spoilers on the internet I'll have to go see it as soon as possible, because people are jerks.

What's coming up over the course of the next week or so? Well, I will have a series of Christmas posts chambered and ready to fire off one by one, based on expected events -- I've got the first of this series almost ready to go now, with others following. But, we'll take it as it comes and we'll see what happens.