Declaring my Independence from Tzures*
*Noun. tsoo r-is (Yiddish) Aggravation, frustration; “Oy, the tzures I’ve got, you should know from it.”
Lately, I feel like as soon something good happens, Big Corporate (in either brick-and-mortar or meat form) comes along and takes a steaming dump on it.
There’ve been a handful of instances of this the last couple years. Some you know about, some I can’t discuss. Some have been fixed, others may never be. They all stink.
The latest in the shit-on-my-happiness processional has to do with our upcoming move. We got some good offers on our house and found a nearly-perfect one to buy in our new area. Everything was rolling along smoothly to close the sale of the old and the purchase of the new in time to settle in before the kids start their new school. We’re supposed to move in less than two weeks, but now our buyer’s mortgage company says we need to bump the closing well past that date. Which also bumps our purchase of the new home (and, incidentally, bumps the people we’re buying from and the closing of their new home). I’ll spare you the clusterfuck of rescheduling movers, rerouting mail, resetting dates for utilities to be shut off and how annoyed I’ll be if we lose our interest rate.
I’m up to my eyeballs in boxes (well, if I’m reclining…) and between the housing issues, film stuff I can’t talk about and having the kids home from school, I’ve got plenty of excuses to choose from when berating myself for my lack of progress on the writing front.
But I’m damn lucky and I know it. There aren’t many people I’d wanna swap problems with. I’ve done a lot that I’m proud of and I’ve got lots to look forward to. (That makes me the very picture of mental health, doesn’t it? Yeah, I thought so, too.)
So, I guess I’ll just keep plugging along and try not to kvetch.