My Murderous Rage or: That in Which I Get You to Throw Your Underwear at Me
Everyone talks about SAD during the winter, but there’s another issue that affects me from time to time. That is: blinding, all-consuming, murderous rage.
I’m a pretty happy dude normally, but sometimes the little things get in my way so much I want to drive a shotgun blast through them.
I’ve never been a fan of the 100s of little things we have to do every day just to live. You know, the things like commuting, buying groceries, doing laundry, and so on. But normally I go on with my day and don’t complain.
Winter, though, adds considerably to the overhead. Just the time it takes me to put on my boots makes me angry. That I’m doing it while wearing 16 layers because I have the body fat of a dead oak tree only makes it worse.
And now that I’m living in a new city (Montreal) in a new apartment without a car and it’s so bloody cold here … it’s all compounding.
All I wanted to do today was work, cook a nice meal, and wash my underwear. And when it takes me all day just to get all the life overhead done so I can sit at my desk with clean undies, well, hello angry-town.
I write this not as a complaint, but as a warning. If you see this guy, throw your underwear at him and run in the other direction.
