Crankypants.

Right now I am kicking myself because of all the things I’ve said “Yes, I’ll do that!” and I want to back the flip OUT. Damn my ambiverted self! The extrovert says “SURE LET’S PUT ON A SHOW!” and the introverted side rouses itself too late and says “FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, SHIT WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” CD Rogue got some disappointing news yesterday that affects both of us and came home asking “Who do I sue to get my life back?” I don’t know. Stupid political shit we’ve known for years is hard to fight. And even my beloved escape to Azeroth seems cheesy and tawdry. Everything is just too f*cking hard right now. Want a mount from Time dungeons? Oh, you’ll have to do 5,483 of them over 5 weeks. Want to raid? Oh, you can’t because your diabetic spouse needs dinner. Want pretty gear like that druid up there? Nope. You’ll have to make do with what you have. The problem is there is no single dragon to slay: there are thousands of snakey-problems, slithering and deceptive, so that when one seems to be defeated another thirty rear their ugly hydra-like heads. If we defeat one evil Drumpf , a villainous, lying Kruz will infiltrate and forget all maxims of church and state and all that other critical stuff that’s kept us from the Spanish Inquisition for three centuries. I’ve just seen too many House of Cards episodes to be hopeful about anyone.

So what’s a shaman to do? Head to the Mental Mountains and meditate, I suppose. Nothing else to be done for it. So my apologies for not writing, but you see what happens when I take a few indulgent minutes at the keyboard– I rant and moan. I’ll be back, but making no guarantees I’ll be nice.

Till then, yours in crankiness,

Matty

2 thoughts on “Crankypants.”

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