Seven Letters

The good news is that I have the day off from work.  The bad news is that it’s Passover.

Well.  That’s not bad news.  It’s just that I have to drive to see my family. 

And don’t get me wrong.  I love my family.  It’s just that there are, well, so damn many of them.  I know that should be something to celebrate, but I get overwhelmed very easily, so I find these family gatherings quite difficult.

Then there’s the driving bit.  I dislike driving through traffic, and Passover traffic is quite bad around here.  I have to drive to Dix Hills, Long Island.  That would normally be a one-hour drive, but the fact that ONE OF THE WORLD’S LARGEST CITIES is between here and there tends to drive that time up.

So I’ll be leaving early to spend the day with my relatives, who will constantly ask me how I’m doing.  The only answer I can give them is “good,” because if I say anything else, they’ll start giving me advice, and their advice tends to miss the mark quite a bit. 

I think the crux of the matter is that what makes them happy (family, children, the beach) is very different than what makes me happy (music, games, creativity).  So wandering on their turf is inherently uncomfortable for me.  Add in the traffic, and you have the beginnings of a nervous breakdown.

So there you have it.  I love my family, but only in small doses.  And they tend to only be available in very large doses.

Last year, I found tweeting my angst helped, so I’ll be doing that again.  As long as someone finds my pain cathartic… okay, I’ll take amusing, I’ll be happy.