The Terrible Bills

I joke around with a few friends about what terrible people we are.  This is fun and enjoyable . . . as long as we don't take ourselves too seriously.  Mostly we don't.  Mostly this is smokescreen we use to blow off some steam and, boy, is THAT a mixed metaphor.  I have smoke and steam - maybe I should get some freezing drizzle in there.

Case in point: two ancient buddies, Suburban Bill and Farmer Bill, made an effort to say positive, encouraging things to a young guy who stayed on to chat with us after yesterday's Zoom meeting.  I've known him casually since he got sober - he's a nice guy, bright, but I suspect he may have a touch of autism or other cognitive disability so he can be tough to engage with.  There I was with an opportunity to chat face to face with two of my oldest friends - and I hadn't seen Farmer for four or five years - and I found myself slightly irritated that the kid hung around, sort of gumming up the conversation.  I wanted to trade old stories, not make an effort to include an outsider.

We joke about being terrible people haters but then our true nature, our kind nature comes out.   So when these people tell a story about how awful they are I temper it with the acts of kindness I see them commit.  Not missing the opportunity, of course, to pile on about what terrible people they are.

Love you, brothers and sisters.  Keep fighting the good fight.  It's worth it.