It kinda feels that way…..’visiting’……we’ve spent so much time in the city these past few weeks that it kinda feels like we have just come to the cabin for a holiday weekend. In fact, we are just NOW really, really home. God it feels good!
Travels and travails took us to Vancouver and then to Victoria. Then down to Victoria again. It’s all some kind of crazy down there but that is not news. In fact, it is all kinds of crazy everywhere. And, sadly, that is not news either.
Even THIS is not news: we figured (and we kept it to a minimum) that we spent in excess of three wasted hours a day driving in traffic, parking, lining up, standing at check-outs and generally doing nothing constructive whatsoever on average per every day we were away while in the city.
THAT’S 20+ wasted hours a week!!!
Some days were even more stupid. (OK, shopping and restaurants are somewhat constructive but barely. Sustaining is the word. NOT constructive.) Put another way: too much of my diminishing energy is spent complying with rules and systems designed by others for the benefit of others and that I pay too much for when I am there. Plus I just plain hate it.
My son recently added about 400 square feet to his house with an addition that had him jump through more hoops than a slinky and some so crazy I can’t imagine him handling it. I’d have gone nuts. Did you know that Victoria has an ‘inspector’ for drywall?
Yesterday, in a hurry of course, I did the ‘shopping’ at one store in just under 11 minutes and that included putting all the crap on the conveyor belt. I waited 15 more minutes to get through the cashier process. I was apoplectic.
“And how are you today, sir?”
“Impatient. Angry and getting angrier by the moment. I am experiencing homicidal feelings towards people who can’t seem to pay and move along. I am especially frustrated by women who do not get their wallet out of their purse to get their air-miles cards and credit cards – which they can’t seem to make work anyway – and don’t even start that hunt-and-search method until the bill is already wrung up. Do you think that I am being sexist?”, I growled.
“No, sir. I’ve been working here five years and it drives me crazy, too!” And that made me feel a bit better. And then she rang through my stuff in record time. There may have been some fear in the air…… I was still angry as I left. That is no way to live.
“Dave, stop complaining!”
OK. I’ll stop after this, but I am NOT complaining, not really. I am COMPARING. I am 70. My day has only so much energy available for me to do stuff. Let’s pretend it’s 8 hours. It is NOT REALLY eight hours, it’s more like four because the last four are so much slower paced and include wine-drinking and dinner-making. Productivity trails off pretty rapidly. But, in the city that theoretical eight hours is either reduced to five or three extra-frustrating hours are added to it by city-time (driving, parking, lining up, etc.)!
That’s a huge Gross Domestic Productivity kick in the cajones.
Anyway, I am back now. I am happy. I vented. I may even vent a bit more some time in another blog. Old men do that, it seems. But I am happy. The fire is roaring, the sea is beautiful, the air is clean and it is cathedral-quiet except for the Ravens giving us orders to fill. Sal and I can get back at it – whatever we are at in any given moment – and enjoy ourselves again. God, it is good to be home!