Los Angeles, CA
I inherited two things from my father: a wicked jump shot and his Irish temper.
One I never use anymore and the other bubbles up to the surface and rears its ugly head about two or three times a year and almost always in Las Vegas. That's where 90% of my emotional breakdowns occurred in the last half of a decade. You can imagine the surprise when I lost it in sunny Los Angeles yesterday.
I was pulled and tugged in a million directions over the last ten days when all I desperately wanted was to be left alone because I have a mountain of work on my plate. It's been a troubling week capped off by one of the worst days of 2009. How bad was it? I almost broke my hand punching a wall.
I reached my breaking point yesterday. I won't delve into the details and specifics. For poker players it's like complaining about a bad beat. The reason I'm even writing this is to give you a thought to ponder...
What exactly would drive you so insane that you'd want to put your fist through a wall (without health insurance)?
Oh, and I'm totally fine today. Mr. Hyde is lone gone and we won't see him for another 90-100 days. Life is weird like that.
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