Blondie, The Hound, and a Purge

I haven't posted in a while, about four years to be exact, and it's mostly because I was just bored of it. I used to find it somewhat therapeutic writing about what I experienced, but work became busier and the blog just seemed like it was additional work. I was also tired of comments from folks who thought this was all made up, which I never understood. Why would I waste my time writing an anonymous blog that I receive no money or fame from, and just make everything up? It did amuse me, though, thinking about pathetic their lives must be if they thought me going out and having fun was "fake".

Anyway...

So Blondie and I have been dating for over four years now and things are pretty good. Neither of us like or want kids, so there hasn't been any pressure to get married. We talk about moving in together but there's no sense of urgency there either. She comes over 3-4 nights a week and life is pretty chill.

One thing I find interesting is that we've never had a big fight. We occasionally get on each other's nerves but it's isolated, at least from my perspective. For example, when we go to the grocery store after work all I want to do is get in there, get what we need for dinner, and get home as quickly as possible. Blondie, on the other hand, is completely fine spending fifteen minutes weighing the pros and cons of Arugula vs. Spinach. She's content to stand there, looking at the labels or doing god knows what with the packages while I race through the store and get everything else I need. Then I just circle back and I'm like "OK, ready to go?". She's always surprised that I've gotten thirty-seven other items since I left her. I'm sure I do things that annoy her but she rarely breaks my balls about them.

One thing I've noticed is that I'm probably drinking more than I should some nights. It's funny because I never have cravings for alcohol. It's not like I sit in my office staring at the clock waiting for the day to end so I can run out to a bar and tie one on. It's more a matter of boredom at home some nights. I'll get home from work, go to the gym or for a bike ride, feed the dog, eat, then sit on the couch and watch a movie. I'll have a beer or a drink when I sit down, and then before I know it I've had five. I've made a concerted effort to cut back, though.

The biggest thing on my mind these days is my hound. She's fourteen so she's probably on borrowed time. Her hips bother her sometimes, and she's not the force of nature she used to be, but she's still sharp and always up for a walk or a ride in the truck. I'm just hyper-aware of her immortality and it really bothers me. I'm sure her frailty also bothers me because it's a reflection of my growing older as well.

Something that my mind keeps turning to as I think about the dog getting old is that for the past 14 years my travel schedule has centered around finding someone to watch her while I'm away. As such, I always minimize my time away from home. I go to some pretty cools places on business travel: Brussels, Latin America, PR, San Francisco, even just a few days in Miami are fun, but it's always "Get in and get out" as fast as I can. So I have this unsettled feeling that I can't shake. It's a feeling of uneasiness from being unable to take a long trip. And if I'm being perfectly honest, there's probably an element of mid-life crisis baked into the feeling as well.

I try to think how to address the feeling and I keep circling back to the idea of taking a very long road trip on my bike when she passes. I'm going to be completely devastated when that day comes, and for weeks and months after, so maybe a long bike ride would help. Or maybe I'll be so fucked in the head that I'm crash and burn on the on-ramp to I-395. I have two trip ideas. The first is a meandering loop around the entire US. Head north then west starting in the spring. Ride the entire coast of California, north to south. Then head back east through the southern states (fucking Texas is looooong). The other idea is to head south through Mexico and maybe even into Central America towards Panama. I think work would let me take time off and perhaps even a little sabbatical without pay so that I could sort some things out.

Another reason why the trip is so appealing to me is that I crave experiences over possessions. To one degree or another, every year after the holidays I do a big purge in my house to get rid of old "stuff" to make room for whatever new "stuff" I received. This year I really noticed how repulsive the commerciality (is that even a word?) of the holidays are. As I looked through my closet and drawers I realized how much crap I had accumulated and how very little of it gave me any pleasure. So I started pulling things out of my closet and putting them in piles. Suits, shirts, t-shirt, dress pants, sweaters, shoes. It just went on and on. I filled a big box with really nice dress clothes and sent it to my nephew who just start his first job out of college. I filled two contractor bags with other clothes and donated them. I sold a bunch of things on eBay and Craigslist. Do I really need ten suits, five black sweaters, or two hundred ties!? It's kind of like that movie Fight Club when Ed Norton describes his Ikea furniture. I don't need all this shit. I'd rather visit some little town on the coast of wherever than buy another suit.

Anyway, I realize that was a bit of a disjointed rant that covered a lot, or maybe zero ground, I'm not sure which.