Bring it on

It seems like the holiday funk has settled in and Murphy's law is in full effect.
Since October my life has become more tedious than ever, a living mockery of every dream I held as a child.
I am about to hit 31, and life is nowhere near where I expected it to be. For the sake of argument, here is a breakdown of my woes:
-Had my hours cut to part-time (40 hours/week now down to 20) . In that one move alone I lost my health insurance and vacation pay;
-Blew a head gasket in my Toyota ($1800 later it runs well, but now has a papery-rattling sound that has to be repaired);
-Toilet has become permanently clogged due to a shower curtain ring that is plugging it up. I was replacing the shower curtain when the ring fell straight in like it was on a mission from God;
-Shower is broken. Every night I have two inches of standing water waiting for me after I bathe due what I presume is a broken pipe;
-Almost out of pills for my high-blood pressure (to understand why this is a big deal refer to the first bullet point);
-In addition to the previous problems I have been plagued lately with weird dreams that make me miss home horribly.

Of course my life has not been a torrential shit storm; it just seems bad right now because I'm in the middle of a monsoon. I still have a girlfriend I love and adore and a small group of ever-loyal friends and family. Also it would probably do me good to slow down and enjoy the small moments, like having a beer with friends after work, or a long phone call with my mom. I have never been one to enjoy the moments. I always spent too much time worrying. Car payment is due in two days. Two stories to write tomorrow. Gotta get my oil changed.
In the meantime all the really important stuff slipped away almost unnoticed, like water through cupped hands. And that is the stuff I regret: not making my brother's tee-ball games, not being there for my mother's birthday, not saying things when they should have been said.
Yup, my troubles are totally self-caused. All the forgotten and neglected moments are the epitaph of a selfish life I guess.
All those moments have added up to my current predicament: Moping around the crossroads, waiting for a friend from my childhood to join me on the road to being a man. But all those friends are gone, their faces just a memory and their voices only heard over long-distance lines these days. The only time I get to see them is when I have the occasional dream about my youth. There they are full of the youthful bravado I thought would never leave us, but is only revisited during those magical midnight hours, vanishing at the first sound of the alarm like frightened mice. It is those moments when I think the fun really is behind me.
It might be time to take the tents down and secure the cages. The carnival is shoving off.