I’m going to let you in on a part of me that I’m not particularly proud of but over which I have no control. With age though, comes acceptance.
I don’t like change.
I don’t like new people. Because then they have to get used to me. And sometimes that’s hard. And I have to try and adjust myself to make them like me before they realise what a complete fucking lunatic I am. Too hard basket, I say.
I refer not to those people whom I meet and love on impact. In the past year, I’ve been fortunate with these encounters.
I keep it clean, I keep it simple and I keep it like I like it. Just so.
- The same lady has been colouring my hair for the past 11 years. The same gentleman has been cutting and blowdrying my hair for the past 8 years. Nine week’s ago at the hairdresser, human error and a computer glitch saw me paired with the wrong blowdry person. Trauma. A week before my appointment last Saturday I had a nightmare that they sprung a new person on me as I arrived for my “blonding” appointment. It took every fibre of my being not to call and see that nothing had gone wrong. Nothing had by the way.
- I ride the same bike in spin class at the gym. Same position, same number. Problem on Sunday – someone had been playing cycle switcheroo on Saturday afternoon. Not happy Jan. I switcherooed back.
- A special mention must be made of the coffee guys from the corner at work. Who shut up shop and made like poof! Gone. Not a word. Just like that. After six years. Like breaking up with someone on a post it note. I am rudderless in the mornings. The guy up the road – no coffee chemistry. The guy at The Bunker – shit attitude. The guy on the other corner – shit coffee. Rudderless.
- And I guess the biggest problem with change at the moment in my life is a transitioning child to teenager in my house. I want my child back. I want to stop the traffic of time. Because I have a new person in my life. One that doesn’t like me much and who is turning me into someone I don’t like much. I don’t want to be the bad cop all the time. Or the voice of reason. Or the one that says no. I don’t want to be the one to take internet privileges away because she slammed the phone down on me (that by the way was the straw that finally broke the camels back – there were many straws before that).
The winds of change seem to be blowing – like a crazy motherfucker across the eastern seaboard here my way. I just hope I’m able to hang on to my
temper hat because I have no intention of living a few suburbs down in Long Bay.
And on that note I’m going to pray that tomorrow brings me good coffee, the same spin bike – yes number 47 – I’m talking to you – and a child that doesn’t make me do anything I’m going to regret for the next 20 years. Although I hear the provocation defence is still used often as a valid argument.
Any similar stories of opposition to change (even if it makes you look like a crazy person)
this is the place to share – like a cone of silence 🙂
Stories of teenage angst also welcome.