I was driving 20 mpg in a school zone outside of the local high school . Two girls, without looking, just walked into the street and in front of my car.
Braking, I said out loud, “Now that takes confidence!”
At first I was annoyed at the arrogance, but the more I thought it turned into envy. I would love to have that kind of confidence to walk across the road without feeling I may be flattened by the first car that the driver’s eyes were off the road reaching into their purse for a chapstick.
Last Saturday I hurt my back by sitting on the floor against the couch. I was showing John new photos I’d had printed from the computer. I hadn’t done it in three years or so, I had over 200. Sitting there for only five minutes I felt my lower back begin to strain.
When I finally did get up I started to complain. Long story short I spent the next day in bed with ice/heat every 20 minutes and a therapeutic dosage of ibuprofen.
I had to get to work on Monday! The hammer was coming down on that nagging co-worker I’m always going on about. I did end up at work only to find out the hammer wasn’t coming until Wednesday!
Alison was great nursing me all day. John gives it a good try too, but he has such a military bedside manner. Barking out questions:
“Need anything?” “Here, take this.” “Hungry?” “What do you need?”
Happy ending; rest in bed and a Breaking Bad binge!
I can only do my laundry in stages. Maybe it’s me or my ADHD (maybe everyone else does their laundry this way and I am being paranoid as usual).
I do it all on Saturdays or Sundays and sometimes both. Sort, wash, dry, fold and put away (SWDFPA). I can’t do it after 4:00 because it will sit and mildew in the washer, too late to get through the SWDFPA cycle. It’s a regimented chaotic system I have developed.
So, at the end of a long weekend day of SWDFPA, I don’t always get to fold the monstrous pile on the bed. That really sucks when one has had their allocated two glasses of wine and decides to finally throw in the towel (no pun intended) and go to bed.
It is a vicious circle, a “Catch 22” if you will. I want to flop into bed because of the laundry yet can’t, because of the laundry.
This is when the fight of wills ensues. Pull all the clothes to one side and go to bed anyway? It’s worked before….. Transfer them to the couch? No, I would be a hypocrite. (My husband puts dried clothes on the living room couch which is the reason I will murder him one day.)
Do you know that folding clothes after a couple of glasses of wine really wrecks a good buzz?
Let me give you a little back story. I had been to the warehouse store and purchased some chicken, pork chops and other assorted bulk meats. The best way to handle this project is to open the packets and wrap the meat in individual portions and put it in the freezer.
To do that you must use cling wrap, really nothing else does the job. Today after multiple mishaps and abrasions I realized with a few verbal expletives that I hate cling wrap! Should I have the read the warning on the box?
CAUTION: SHARP CUTTING EDGE (no shit!) Sorry, I wasn’t able to keep the few verbal expletives out of this post. It is so dangerous they had to spell the caution out in three languages!
The box says “CLINGS TIGHT WITHOUT A FIGHT” (cute, but totally untrue). I’m reading the box now which is so hard to do when your eyes are rolling in the back of your head with contempt.
Easy to Handle it says, Push Tabs to Hold in Place (with your third hand) it says and Tear wrap up and across.
It should say scrape your knuckles on the serrated edge to grasp the roll because it wasn’t held in place by the “tabs”. Use your fading vision to find the edge of the wrap and pull over the aforementioned serrated edge. Tear wrap up and across serrating your thumb while trying to pull the wrap from the razor sharp edge.
Trying to get it to lie flat to put the meat on is another paragraph that I’m sure you don’t feel like reading. (How did this get so long anyway?)
Cling wrap should not be confused with Glad’s close to the second coming of Christ – Press’n Seal . Press’n Seal is a miracle in itself for using as a replacement for lost tupperware lids.
Anything to salvage?
No.
I had an idea and rushed to the laptop typing quickly before I forgot.
It just poured out of me. The first few paragraphs felt like they meant something, but then it just went downhill from there. I kept writing anyway, forcing words through my fingertips.
I didn’t even read over it before I clicked save and went to do some housework or something.
I’ve just now gone back to it, thus this post.
Wondering…can you write something to cheer yourself up?
I need some cheering up today. It’s been an up and down week for me. I know it’s nothing new but I keep expecting it to be. Eternal optimism is a double edged sword.
I’m listening to some great music. I have wine. I actually took a break and watched an entire movie this afternoon. I did no laundry and had a good laugh with my sister.
I’ve done all the right things. I am feeling a bit better.
So, “Yes “, to my original question.
It wasn’t so bad at first. I could cope with the gum smacking and the loud voice. Well, actually that is a lie. Nice, I’ve started out my maudlin plea with a lie. I hate this person…how’s that for the truth? I’ll start out again.
Six months ago it began. It wasn’t so bad at first. A little loud and talked a lot, but as time went on more annoying and downright obnoxious behavior surfaced. A flippant attitude to the kids, talking with mouth full, sweats stuffed into slippers, loud personal calls, gossiping and on and on and on.
All of this only three feet from my desk. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes and sigh half the day.
How is a quiet, polite, professional, anxiety ridden bipolar II woman supposed to handle this day in and day out? Seven hours a day! I am either a zombie or a nervous wreck by the time I get home.
My doctor thinks the combination of this person and my friend dying has been too much on my poor little brain and it’s buckling under the added stress. Unnecessary anxiety attacks.
I’m tired of persevering. I don’t know whether I deserve it or not, but I just want a little peace of mind.
I began to delete my old text messages because I still have all of them since purchasing my phone in 2012. Does everyone do that? Keep their text messages forever?
My daughter, Emily, sent me a few photos and a text message from an Obama Rally she was attending in 2012.
A conversation ensued:
Me: I can’t believe how close you got. Too bad it wasn’t Bono.
Emily: I know I kept thinking that! They played a lot of U2 at the rally.
Me: Do you know that Bono is in the iPhone’s spell checker?
Emily: Yes, just realized that and it’s awesome! I think he deserves it.
Me: Thanks for putting up with me and all of my Bono references so enthusiastically.
This is pretty much the way I live my life, between Bono references.
I walked into the dingy laundromat last week to get our comforter washed. Dingy is how I would describe every laundromat I have ever been in.
The music playing was nice, something Caribbean, merengue maybe? As I scanned the room for the counter I wondered casually what everyone’s story was. Why don’t they own a washer and dryer? I don’t judge. There was a time when I was a young mother using the laundromat.
As I got to the desk, there was a young guy who asked me how he could help. I gave him my comforter and waited as he wrote out the ticket. We chatted about the weather, the fact that it was Friday, etc. He took my money and I left.
As I walked through all the machines I reflected how much my life had changed. I had my own washer and dryer now. I had arrived.
I went through the doors to my car. As I reached for my keys I noticed the music was still playing. I felt for my phone. The merengue music had been blasting from my purse all along.
Oh, yes, I had arrived alright. To where I’m not sure.
I was cleaning the inside of the microwave this afternoon and a thought crossed my mind.
How would my life have been different if I had known what was wrong with me earlier? Gone to college? Not had kids at 20? Not made every wrong choice that could have possibly been made by a woman in the beginning of her adult life?
It’s sad to think of it this way. I really don’t have very many regrets in my life, but this defiantly fits in that category.
I’m trying to see it in a more positive light. What would I be like today if I hadn’t had such a difficult time? Would I be boring (worse than death)? Would I be unkind or whinier than I already am?
I don’t know. I do have a lot of decades ahead of me at this point. I hope I can find out “what would’ve been” by doing it now.
anincidentallife.com 
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