"...convince myself that I can easily forget…"-Shiny Toy Guns

History repeats. Time heals all wounds. What is America without it's great clichés? Today, in honor of it being no particular day at all, I thought I'd pit these clichés against each other in post-marital combat.

A few months ago, I posted about a great opportunity. Not the opportunity itself, just that one existed, and I was happy to have it. I was excited, but also disappointed at the same time. You don't remember that post? You're supposed to be my dedicated fans! Go back! Reread it!. Look sometime in June, around my birthday. You don't remember that either? That's ok, nobody remembered that.

All together now, "Awwwww, poor Rob." Thanks I feel better.

Anyway, I was disappointed about the news because the first person I always ran to was MyUnwife. She may not have helped in the bad news arena, but she was a great supporter of the good. Last June I realized I couldn't do that anymore. She no longer sat on my side of the field. Pop! There went my joy-balloon. My victory turned bittersweet. I don't like it when people get bitter in my sweet. They are not two great tastes that go great together.

Yesterday, I received more good news, a new opportunity, a new feather for my cap. Once again, I couldn't tell her. I mean there wouldn't be any legal ramifications; it's not even a financial blip. By other's standards, it's not even that big of a deal, but to me it was finger of God big. To me, it a Reese's Peanut butter Cup: all peanut butter and chocolate goodness.

So does history repeat? Did I wallow in the bittersweet? Not this time. There was a knee-jerk twitch. A desire to share, and no it wasn't the "In your face!" type share. It was the type of share that makes you dance a jig with friends and family. I don't jig, but man, I am fun to watch try.

I didn't have MyUnwife. I still shared: I shared with my friends and family. They were appropriately impressed. A few people even applauded in all the right places and did the wave. Those people rock.

So what about time healing all wounds? I guess if I didn't feel the pang of regret, then that wound is healing as it's supposed to. It's gonna leave a nasty scar, but scars add character. Chicks dig scars, right? Ok, so maybe time did nothing for the woomping head wound. I'm still a little incoherent, but the prognosis is good.