The front end of my poor car is off the ground yet again. The job is slightly harder than I'd hoped and involves moving a support arm that I'd hoped to be able to work around. The socket extension that I borrowed from Momma's boyfriend was already on its way to broken, and I finished breaking it before I finished needing it. Rather than finish the job yesterday I finished that part of my day with a trip to Sears. Momma's boyfriend and I now own our very own six inch, 3/8 inch socket extension.
I'm off work today and should have the entire day to finish fixing my car. Today it's raining just enough to keep the ground wet and keep me out from under the car.
That's only one thing that's messing with my head today. The frustration that completing this one simple car repair task has become is starting to get to me. My weekend that I could have worked on this car was spent driving to, attending and returning from a roller derby bout in Cincinnati. It was a trip we'd planned, and I don't at all regret going, but sitting here now, frustrated about my car, it just seems like time added to the time I've not fixed the car.
There are other issues dancing around inside my head, things I won't go into just now. And it isn't that these other things are so big or are new or . . . It's just a dogpile of irritation and frustration, and I'm not doing the greatest job of fixing any of my issues. I keep finding myself in the moment frustrated and exasperated and feeling somewhat helpless that this moment there is nothing I can do.
Dr. Seuss called it the waiting place. I'm sure it's come up here before.
Bleah! This isn't the post I wanted to write today, and I actually did have some things I was thinking. If the rain continues to keep me from lying on my back on the asphalt under a few hundred pounds of Honda then maybe I can get to it.
I've also agreed to write a bout recap from Cincinnati, so I need to get to that before the day is over. I've tended to have a bad habit of putting those off in the past, and I find my recaps are better the sooner following the bout I write them. And The Boy has just informed me that he's hungry. My answer of "good for you" won't really help him get anything to eat, so I suppose that's my cue.