Hockey pucks

“How do you feel?”

Someone asked me that today. Well intentioned. But I hate that question.

I answered with my usual “OK” and smiled. HA ! Got by that one….

But really, I don’t know how I feel. Not regularly. I can give you ten second increments, but who knows what memory or feeling is lurking around the next thought in my head?? And that damn Lecter fella is always floating around somewhere like a bad fart.

Actually, I feel like a hockey puck. I’ve been dropped, stepped on, kicked, and I go from heretothereandtheretohere with the intensity of what feels like someone smacking me with a stick.

Take today. I had a fairly decent morning and a short pleasurably easy shift at work. I was looking forward to watching the Belmont on DVR and I purposefully stayed away from Twitter, Facebook and the interwebz in general so I wouldn’t know the outcome. Then I got off work.

I got in the car, cranked up and started heading home. And HEY there that bad fart was !! I literally had to stop in the parking lot, repark and regain my composure so I could drive. Then I cried all the way home. WTF? Really?
Yes, really. I managed to make it home, calmed myself , took a hot bath and watched the race. That helped.

Now I’m blogging. I’m sure it’s getting tedious listening to me whine about my life in between highs of baseball and shopping, but it is what it is.

I am a hockey puck. All black and dark and bouncing around this life when I would like to be doing nothing better than just hanging out with bright shiny hot pink hockey pucks that live a bright and shiny happy pink hockey puck life.

But I’ll play this game Lecter. And in the end, I’ll beat you.