One Week

As I lay in bed last night, fighting to find sleep after watching a frustrating Steelers loss, random thoughts sprinted through my mind. I hit a theme that entertained me for a while.

One Week is a song by the Barenaked Ladies. It's probably close to 15 years old but I had to do the math to figure that out. I associate this song with a trip to Cleveland. I lived in an apartment then, I remember meeting up with Gretchen and Michele to leave for the trip from there. I've been in this house for 13 and a half years and lived in the apartment for about three and a half years. So about15 years ago. We road tripped to Cleveland to visit Alexis and I used any excuse to play that song as much as possible. Being the first song on the CD, we listened to it as the first song and then the last song before we switched CDs. I'm sure they were sick of the song by the end of the trip but I felt like it was/is my personal theme song.  It was before anyone of them had kids. Now, they all do. We went to a club on the Flats on Saturday night and drank a lot that night. Two drinks now and I'm either toasted or passed out. Things have changed quite a bit.

One week is how much longer I'll be 42. I tried to focus on the blessings in my life, things for which I am thankful, what with it being Thanksgiving. I listed them mentally, even including my dogs who were snoring away, and still dwelled on 43. Then I thought about how I should get a Troy Polamalu jersey because his number is 43 and I'll be 43, he's one of my favorite Steelers, and I would be 43 like his jersey. I like Heath Miller too but I doubt I'll be lucid enough at 83 to think about jerseys and he won't be playing then anyway. Like I said, random. But I came back to 43. My life is as together as it's going to get. But I don't feel much like celebrating it. The thought of a family dinner isn't exciting. I'm not sure I want singing or cake. I sort of want to time travel to 8 days from now. Let's just get it over with and be 43 already. Then I don't have to think about another passing year. Another year of my life of having so much, but having one lone thing elude me. I don't want to have to think about having spent another year by myself. And I certainly don't want to think about the possibility of spending another year the same way. So forgive me if I feign a smile in one week. I'll be better in eight days. Now I just need a song about 8 days to remind me of that.