Happy Pills--Day 3-ish

In just over two and a half days, I'm not sure my pleasant attitude is changing, but I'm seeing bits and pieces of the side effects.  The drowsiness is a myth.  Last night I don't even remember yawning and when I got in bed at 12:30, I was pretty much wide awake.  Fortunately, I turned the TV to a cycling event and was asleep in no time.

I'm still dragging ass in the mornings.  Once I wake up, it's really hard to fall back asleep so I just toss and turn and think of all the shit I need to do.  I'm pretty sure the happy pills are supposed to combat that, but right now, the anxiety is winning the battle.  Sometimes I do fall back asleep, but them I'm just wasted when I get up.

My temperament I think is improving.  Last night I should have killed Hayden a couple times, but I kept my hands to myself, and don't even recall yelling.  I might have raised my voice, but no yelling and no beating.  Baby steps.

Later in the evening, there was another f-bomb or two that flew out of my mouth, but again, not from anger.  I was more scared than anything. I'm not sure what I was doing, but in the master bathroom area, I heard this sound, it can only be described as some guy motor-boating his large chested lady friend.  I looked around and my wife was across the room and fully clothed, so that wasn't it.  I searched for the sound and saw this wasp that was the size of a large bird and had markings like freaking Darth Maul from the Star Wars movie.

When he flapped his wings, the house shook.  He was up by a light bulb and I really thought he was going to break it with those large wings of his.  I took a towel and tried to beat his ass with it, but the towel just bounced off.  One time I caught him off guard and took his big ass down to the ground.  At this point, Porter the cat came in to help.  I tried to get her out of the way because I was afraid this waspadactyl would carry her off for a late meal.  Jennifer kept yelling at me to just grab it, but it was bigger than I was so I just ran around the room trying to protect myself.

Eventually I landed a few more blows with the towel and stunned him.  I grabbed a Kleenex and went in for the kill.  I had him but he came out of his funk and tried to fly away.  My whole hand shook as he broke free.  Again, I ran around the room screaming like a little girl trying to save myself, leaving the cat and my wife to fend for themselves.  Apparently, another side effect of the happy pills is self-preservation.

Finally I grew tired of Jennifer (hiding under the covers) yelling at me to grow a pair and kill the thing.  I went at the thing one more time, beating anything that moved with the towel.  Finally I subdued this waspadactyl beast and sent him to a watery grave in the toilet.  The waspadactyl had the last laugh, however, as after flushing, the can was partially stopped up.

It should be noted that despite my happy pills, I was dropping f-bombs during this intense battle for life.  I'm not proud of it, but I had to defend my man-card in front of my wife and cat.

I'm at work now and despite passing new road construction on North Green River Road (isn't this basically a new road that took 4 years to finish), I don't recall any road rage...even when I passed the dead guy driving the truck with the handicapable license plate.

One other side effect that wasn't entertaining was discovered at 4:49 this morning when the birds woke me up.  I sort of had to tinkle (as least it felt like that), so I got up to use the now unstopped toilet.  I stood in front of the can.  And I stood...and I stood...and I stood.  I started thinking about how I'm going to be a stallion with these new drugs.  Apparently taking a whiz is going to be an ordeal as well.

Oh well.  The things I do so I can be nice to others.

Happy Pills--Day 2-ish

I'm now some 40 hours into my Happy Pills Experiment.  Day 1 was fairly uneventful.  I think instead of curve balls, Life eased up and started lobbing balls into my wheelhouse.  I can only think of one F-bomb from yesterday and that was when I was cutting up cauliflower for dinner and dropped some onto the floor.

I took my second pill last night about the same time as the previous night.  I'm still undecided on this drowsy thing.  On the one hand, I started yawning almost immediately after taking the pill.  On the other hand, I didn't feel sleepy and managed to go to bed at about the same time as usual.  More research is needed.

While I slept, I slept well.  But like the first day, once I woke up, I struggled to fall back asleep, and today it never really happened.  Like yesterday, I really struggled to get out of bed.  It seems I'm drowsy after waking up rather than at bedtime.  One thing that was different today was I had a bloody nose after blowing my nose this morning.  Maybe it's not uncommon for a bloody nose to take place after an aggressive blow, but I don't recall that happening before.  Again, more research is needed.

The weather is warming here in Indiana, but there hasn't been much wind-->bike riding is very easy right now.  I went out for a short ride today, and dropped only the second f-bomb I can remember since I started doing drugs.  The good news is that this f-bomb wasn't out of frustration.  No, as I was riding down Baseline Road out in the middle of nowhere, I came across a large stick in the road.  This stick was almost as long as the lane opposite to me.  As I rode closer, the damned stick moved.  I think out in the country where I was riding, the roads are like 8 feet wide.  This 'stick' was within a foot or two of taking up the whole lane and wasn't laying straight.  I'm guessing this Stick Snake was 7 or 8 feet long.  I don't like snakes.  They scare the hell out of me.  I said, "Holy %&@#!"

Traffic was acceptable today so there was no road rage.  All in all, it's too early for the happy pills to be working (doctor said to expect up to a month before I notice anything), but I think Life is taking it a bit easy on me.  As such, I don't have anything funny to report.

Happy Pills--Day 1-ish

I'm about 15 hours into my experiment with happy pills.  The doctor said they might make me drowsy and suggested I take them at night to help me sleep (not that I normally need help sleeping).  I'm on the fence about whether or not they actually made me drowsy.  I did start yawning at 10:30 last night, but that was also after my second beer (both of which packed a nice little 8% ABV), so I'm not sure what the cause was.

I went to bed around midnight, right as the rain was starting to pick up.  Shortly thereafter I started losing DirecTV's signal and called it a night.  While I slept well, like usual, I do recall feeling a bit hotter than normal despite sleeping with a box fan going, a ceiling fan going, and a window air conditioner blowing right over me (and yes, the central air was running too).  I blame the happy pills for that.

I woke up still feeling fairly tired, possibly due to the happy pills, but possibly not...who knows?  My stomach wasn't upset, though I had a strange feeling in there, despite having already relaxed with my thoughts while reading the sports section of the paper.

I showered, got dressed and headed into the office.  I did notice along the way to work that I wasn't flipping off anyone, wasn't calling anyone an effing idiot, and was feeling no road rage at all.  However, the jury is still out because there wasn't much traffic.  Also, I seem to be yawning more than usual.

At work, things haven't really improved, I knew it was going to be a bad week and that hasn't changed.  Stress is high and that's fairly common, but I haven't dropped any F-bombs yet and it's relatively peaceful at work, though that's likely because the owner is out of town.

The early results of the happy pills are inconclusive.

Doctor appt

My visit to the doctor went fairly well.  He rarely remembers why or what we talked about last time so it's actually been a while since he's tried to get in my pants and today was no different. 

He walked in and immediately started asking if I still drank weird beer.  I replied in the affirmative and he told me a story about him telling some friends of his a story about me and my beer issues.  From there he asked if I was still taking the drugs he put me on a few years ago and how my wrists were doing.

As the appointment was coming to a close, he asked if there was anything else.  Normally, if we'd gotten this far and I still had my pants on, I'd have flown out of the room, but I was feeling good about this visit, so I stayed.  I asked him if he could put me on happy pills or if I needed to see a shrink.

He said that was something he could handle, but wanted to know my symptoms.  I gave him the run down and then asked him if there were any happy pills that didn't include side effects such as insomnia, weight gain, or my wiener not working.  He laughed and said EVERY medicine has side effects.

He said the drugs nowadays really work well, but there are things to take into consideration.  He mentioned I'd probably be sick to my stomach for the first few days, but it would eventually go away.  He told me I'd probably feel tired early on, so take the drugs at night before bed.  And he said some of the happy pills are prescribed for guys who are three pump chumps to help with their premature issues.  He said my wiener would still work, it would just take longer to finish the transaction.  After thinking about it for about, um, a second, I said, "Sick to my stomach so I'll lose weight, it'll help me fall asleep, and I'll be the Energizer Bunny?  Sounds like a win-win to me."  He laughed and said, "Yeah, you'll really be able to lay some pipe."

That's not exactly what he said, but that's what he meant.  He stressed it would take up to a month before I stopped wanting to hurt people and asked that I schedule another appointment with him in about 30 days to see if I was still wanting to beat people, though I suspect he just wants to hear my stories about being a stallion.

Since tonight starts my weekly tradition of drinking really, really good beer, I'm going to start the happy pills on Monday.  Hopefully the upset stomach will last til Friday morning and I can drink my good beer all over again Friday evening.

I already don't care about most things, but I'd like to think the happy pills will make me not care about anything. 

He's back

Yes, you thought he was gone.  And sure, he's been away, but Psycho Dad never really leaves.  Sometimes he just lurks.  

Anywho, Psycho Dad had some errands to run today before heading into the office.  First stop was at the Post Office.  Since our office moved a few months ago, we're no longer right across the street from a Post Office and now the closest one is at Eastland Mall.  

Eastland Mall scares Psycho Dad.  Earlier in the day it's full of old people and later in the day it's full of young people; neither of which are appealing.  However, the post office is very close to exit doors so you don't have to deal much with either young or old people.  The lady working at the post office was very friendly and helpful, even when dealing with the old guy who was in line before me.  She had no problems repeating everything she said 3 or 4 times so the deaf guy (i.e. the old guy) could hear her, and then doing it all over again so the old guy (i.e. the deaf guy) could understand what the hell she was talking about.  Apparently it was new to him that you can actually look into a 'TV screen' and track your package.  It was equally appalling to him that you could receive confirmation through said 'TV screen' when the package you sent has been signed for.  My goodness, what will technology bring us next.

My next stop was the Nissan dealership, but as I was pulling out of the mall parking lot, I saw Bed, Bath and Beyond.  I love that place and we needed something for home, so I stopped in.  I think I love the place now because I used to love it in the past.  My recent trips haven't been fruitful, so I think I'm putting it on the Psycho Dad Shit List.

I found my way to the correct section and started looking at the different styles of the utensil I needed.  I couldn't find it.  That moved the needle on my annoying gauge because the thing I'm replacing at home was purchased from BB&B.  I looked all around, but couldn't find what I wanted, so I decided to settle on something similar.  After looking at the price (Holy shit, I remembered why I didn't enjoy my last trip there, everything is freaking expensive), I put the thing back on the shelf.  Unfortunately, I was at Wally World within the last couple weeks and couldn't find anything better, so I picked the damned overpriced thing from the wall and walked to the checkout area.

There was a choice of standing behind the 40-year old lady and her mom in the left lane or behind a couple clueless people wanting to return shit in the right lane.  I overheard the 40-year old lady laughing about blowing her budget (I'm sure her husband was laughing his ass of too, poor bastard) to her mom in the left lane so I chose the right lane.  Sadly it wasn't so much a choice as it was a lack of options because neither side moved.  For 7 minutes I stood in line, fuming, before saying fuck it.  I left the line, which was steadily growing with customers wanting to check out, returned the overpriced item to its original resting spot and left that shitty place for what I'm hoping is the last time.  Shitty service and shittier prices isn't going to bring me back.

After that debacle, I finally made it to the Nissan dealership to get some new batteries for the Infiniti key fobs.  The guy  who replaced the batteries was very friendly and helpful; the lady I gave my credit card to wasn't as friendly or helpful.  I'm the least friendly or helpful person I know, yet I can still manage a smile from time to time.  I always thought in customer service industries you were supposed to be friendly and helpful whether or not you really wanted to.  Apparently, I learned that wrong in college.

Somehow, Hayden loves to go out with the Grandmas when they do nothing but run errands.  I don't get it.  Running errands sucks (I think Hayden is only in it for the free lunch or Starbucks that usually follows).  There's always something to piss off a Psycho Dad.  As far as I'm concerned, I'm not out of the errand running business.  

Serious pucker factor

My morning hasn't been the greatest.  It's 37 degrees out, the wind is howling non-stop, it's wet out, and I spent the last hour on the business end of a 24-foot ladder.

Late yesterday afternoon our neighbor rang our doorbell to tell us we had a piece of our fascia that had come loose and was making a crazy racket banging against the brick chimney each time there was a gust of wind. I went out a bit later to take a look at it and realized it was going to suck to fix.  I didn't think much of it until I let Memphis out for one last whiz before going to bed at about midnight.  When we got outside, it sounded like a shotgun was being fired.  Memphis was barking at the sound and I was trying to figure out which idiot neighbor was causing the commotion so late at night.

As I walked around to the side of the house, I realized we were the idiot neighbors as the fascia was just barely hanging on and crashing into the chimney with each gust.  My first thought was, "how in the hell am I supposed to sleep with that (because the fascia was right above our bedroom window)?"

Memphis and I went back into the house and I went into our bedroom.  It was just as I thought, while Jennifer was sleeping fine, there was no way I'd be able to sleep through it since I hear everything (it's funny, when I'm trying to sleep I hear every noise, but when I'm awake, I can't ever seem to hear anyone when they're talking to me).  So, I went into the mancave and went to sleep on the futon.

Very early this morning, Jennifer came into tell me that I needed to fix it.  Her tone was apparent, like I was the one who made the wind blow or who caused the fascia to come lose.  Being married I've learned that it doesn't really matter the situation or who or what is to blame, it's my fault and my responsibility to fix it.

Our house is a two story money pit.  It was built in 1986 and virtually nothing has been updated so EVERYTHING is falling apart.  I keep hoping it will burn down (Message to Dillow, my insurance agent/friend: nothing to see here, carry on) and I can start over, but so far, I've had no luck with that.  Also, everything that seems to go wrong is a pain in the ass to fix...like this fascia.  It picked the exact highest point of the house to come lose.  Not close to the highest or just a high spot, the exact top of the A-frame.  And because the nail holding it at the highest point stayed strong, the piece of fascia flipped, so it was actually pointing out a bit higher that the top of the house.

When I got up, I called a siding place.  I explained it was a simple job, something that even I could do, I just didn't have a ladder tall enough to reach the highest point of the house.  I have a 16-foot ladder and it doesn't come close.  The guy at the siding place told me there was a minimum charge, which I understood, and said I was looking at at least a couple hundred bucks because his guys work in two-man crews and he had to pay for both them and their truck to come out.  He suggested I just go spend a couple hundred bucks on a ladder and then I'd have it for future use.

Instead, I called Hayden's Grandpa because he's got tools and stuff he doesn't even know he's got and not only that, but I could probably borrow his truck to get the ladder home.  He was in town and told me to stop by.

He had a 24-foot ladder and asked if that was enough.  I looked and looked and wasn't convinced it was.  He said to take it and try it, and if it wasn't enough to let him know.

I went back home and put the ladder up to the side of the house.  The wind seemed to be blowing harder and harder with each passing minute.  13-feet of the ladder just reached the window as I kept sliding the one piece out farther and farther.  As I started running out of ladder, I thought to myself, there's no effing way I'm going up there.  With just a couple feet of ladder to go, it was just reaching the point where I might be able to touch the bottom part of where the fascia needed to go, but I was pretty convinced I wasn't going to be the one to do it.

I climbed up as high as I was willing, holding onto the ladder for dear life.  It was cold, the wind was relentless, my wet shoes were sliding all over the aluminum rails of the ladder and I was sweating like  nobody's business because I was pretty sure I was going to die.  The one thing I had going for me was that with the rain last night, the ground was muddy and soupy and I figured I probably wouldn't die after all when I fell, as long as I could avoid the gas meter just below.

Just when I was ready to take down the ladder and head back to Grandpa's, it occurred to me I'd have to give back Man Card if I didn't at least give it a try.  I figured if I fell, I'd only break my back, but I'd have a great story to tell.  In the end, having a story won out.

I trotted back up to the top of the ladder, using 23 of the 24 feet available and reached for the piece of fascia, but it was just too far out of reach and there was no way I was going any higher.  I again descended the ladder and went into the garage to find something I could use as a hook to catch the offending fascia.  In the backyard, I found just the thing...a shepherd's hook that I'd neglected to put away for the winter.  It extended my reach plenty, but meant I had to climb the damned ladder with mostly one arm.

Eventually the fascia had been caught and was back in place...but now I had to figure out how to hold nails in one hand, a hammer in the other, and still keep two hands on the ladder.  I went back down the ladder for the umpteenth time, my butt still as puckered as my first trip up.

I grabbed a handful of nails and a hammer and placed them all in my little construction guy belt and climbed the ladder yet again.  Starting at the lowest point of the fascia, I got the first nail in in no time and managed to stay atop the ladder.  With the fascia now in a semi-attached state, I tried to reach a bit higher to the next nail hole.  Unfortunately, there was no way to hold a nail and swing a hammer without ending up on the neighbor's roof so I called it a day.

After returning the ladder and truck to Grandpa (thanks Grandpa) I headed back home to get ready for a trip to the office, the fascia still attached where it's supposed to be.  My butt is still a bit puckered from the morning's traumatic experience, but I'm not in traction like I partially expected to be at this point in the day.  I'm really happy Grandpa had a ladder because I'd have wasted a couple hundred bucks buying one for my own because I have no intentions of ever going that high again.

Short story, please

Being a male, I'm not much of a talker.  Sure, I'll give you my opinion on anything, but I typically use as few words as I can get away with and if I don't have to talk, that's even better.  It's the same way when I ask a question.  A simple yes or no will suffice, I don't need the long story.  Whoever came up with K.I.S.S. was right on the money, keep it simple, stupid.

I get the long story at home a lot.  One of Hayden's grandmas is quite the talker.  Often I have to butt in and say, "Grandma, just give us the short story."  From time to time, that long story gene makes an appearance with Jennifer.  I ask a question that requires a one word answer and after a few minutes I stop listening.  Same thing with Hayden, everything with him is a freaking negotiation.  It gets to the point where I just stop listening to him as well.

I bring this up because I got it at the office the other day.  The people that process our payroll sent me a file with a list of employees who hadn't received a check in a while and they wanted to know if those employees could be terminated in their system.  I tried to open the file, got an error message and was told I couldn't access the file.

Subsequently, I sent a message back to the payroll girl explaining the message I'd received and asked if she could send me the file again.  I expected an e-mail with an attachment and maybe a three word-sentence saying something like 'here you go.'

Instead I got a dissertation on how she didn't understand what the problem was, that she'd opened the file and had no trouble with it, blah, blah, blah...I stopped reading.  I was prepared to fire back a nice, professional two-word reply; no not those two words, but two I use at home ALL.  THE.  TIME.  "Don't care."

In thinking about it a bit more, it occurred to me that I get shit at the office all the time.  Someone asks me something, I give a short, direct, wonderful answer; and then I'm given all the reasons why we can't do what I propose.  The whole time they're talking (generally speaking, after you've reached the allotted number of words I think an answer should take, I quit listening), I've already stopped listening, wondering why in the hell they bothered me in the first place if they weren't going to like my answer and have started back on what I was working on.  Then when they finish, if I'm still awake, I look up and say, politely, "I'm sorry, are you still in my office?"

In the future, I'd like for all to remember that my capacity for listening is several hampered by my y-chromosome and in the best interests of everyone, you should just give me the short story.