Ch-ch-ch-changes

I can only remember two real meltdowns I had as a kid. One: My parents rearranged the furniture in our livingroom. Where was my home? Someone took it. Meltdown. The second is a musical meltdown. Back in the 70's, my parents shunned disco, preferring instead to drive along in our crappy chevy with the country music station as a soundtrack. Being born in '74 (if you're counting that makes me 3-0) I grew up with a western twang in my ears. One day my father purchased a vinyl record by a group called "the Eagles". I immediately started weeping. Who was this man playing this crazy music? Where was Willie Nelson? Meltdown.

So I have a long history with change and not liking it. In the past couple of years it seems that the big G is trying to keep me in a constant state of flux, not so much by bombarding me with change but by dangling the possibility of change in front of my nose, or rather just off to my side, like in my parapheral vision. It's like a gnat, but you know you can't swat a gnat. If you manage to get one, there will be others, better to just learn to live with the buzzing.