My wife is going through a bad patch at work -- feeling the pinch of yuppy-young managers who think that making employees feel fearful is the mark of leadership. The situation brings out my Islamic State desire to chop off some hands or worse....
My son is enduring a personal bad-patch upset. I can tell because his sometimes-sullen willingness to generalize about the people around him is on the back burner. His footing is not so firm. When things hurt, the bullshit of "people think" or "everyone feels" gets a new and improved perspective ... same for the young, same for the old, I think.
My own ability to meet and greet the heat of the last few days sets me back in a bad-patch arena.
As the song once observed, "my get-up-and-go has got up and went."
Just a house. Just a person. How does that happen? The richness dissolves, the house stands ... and ... and ... and ... do things improve or get somehow solved because there is some sad or happy recollection? I do not want to listen to heartfelt or allegedly heartfelt recollections. My own are confusing enough in that gone-baby-gone way.
"A problem shared is a problem halved." Is that so or is it just another bit of whistling past the graveyard?
The richness is gone. The house remains.
Someone will think of something wise to say. Luckily, I will not be around the hear it.