Tag: musings

To Fold or Not to Fold

Published on by cmglife

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?

Nothing to Salvage

Published on by cmglife

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.

Cheering Up

Published on by cmglife

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.

Brain Waves

Published on by cmglife

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.

Full House

Published on by cmglife

I have a full house this week of Christmas break.

And just how do you think I am handling the situation?  You would be right, not well, not well at all.  Tonight I took an anti anxiety pill I reserve for emergencies; second time in my life to use it. The first time I took one I actually had a panic attack. I was afraid what it would do to me.  Irony at it’s best, the drug is to prevent panic attacks.  Ha Ha Ha, what a crack up I am!

I wasn’t going to have a panic attack, but I was getting quite anxious knowing that my in-laws were joining my daughter, son in law and granddaughter (they were here first) at our house for a few days.  On top of that I will be entertaining a cousin and his family.  Oh, yeah then there are John’s friends.  I tend to be a bit of an introvert so having this many people and for so long is wearing my nerves down.

They mean well, but when my sister-in-law starts telling me about people she knows, their names, their children’s names, their spouse’s names and their pets’ names, breed, age and gender.  After I learn all of that there is the list of jobs each of them has, how great the jobs are and their co-workers.  Half way through the evening I am so agitated from boredom, but trying to be polite and pay attention even by asking pertinent questions when I think appropriate. After two hours of this I feel like drowning myself in the kitchen sink.

Tonight I couldn’t take it, even though I had mother’s little helper swimming through my blood stream I begged off saying I was too tired and must go to bed.  I sneaked the laptop into the bedroom and here I sit with headphones on writing to save my sanity for tomorrow.

I do most of this for my husband. I have to step up. Wait a minute, he was gone a suspiciously long time getting groceries just after they arrived.  He didn’t have a good explanation of why it took one and half hours to spend $100 dollars. Coward.

Christmas Dinners

Published on by cmglife

Whatever happened to “themed” Christmas dinners? That is what my family will ask after I’m gone.

“I don’t know,” Emily will say wistfully “my favorite was the BBQ.  Even though I’m a vegetarian I loved the smell of the smoked sausage, ham and ribs cooking all day in the oven.”

Tristan will reminisce, “I remember the prime rib and frozen coconut shrimp Christmas.  The prime rib was a little cold by the time it got to the table and the shrimp was almost thawed, but Mom looked great!”

Little Allison will look longingly at the dining room table, “I remember the Italian Christmas when I was 11.  The pasta stuck together like it does on any other day, but I did get to drink sparkling apple juice from a champagne glass.”

That is what I envision as a post death conversation my resistant family will be having regarding my themed Christmas dinners.  Always being a pioneer, I started the themed Christmas dinners a few years ago to expose the children to new cultures and diversity.

Yeah, that’s a load of “stuffing”.  I started it because we had already had turkey, etc. less than four weeks earlier for Thanksgiving.  I personally don’t like turkey and how often do you get to justify a $35 piece of meat?

Petite Ears

Published on by cmglife

I am sitting in bed writing at the moment.  I write listening to music with my earphones in.  I’m talking the ear buds, not the $200 customized dj headphones (I wouldn’t be caught dead in them anyway; I never wear ear muffs either).  I must have unusually small ears because ear buds are never comfortable. If I’m wearing the earphones while I’m cleaning which I always do (it keeps my mind off it) they are constantly falling out.   I am forever readjusting, fiddling or putting them back in.

Then there is the fact that they get caught on everything while I’m walking around the house.  The cord gets caught on the dishwasher rack mostly.   Sometimes I don’t realize I’m wearing them and do something stupid like change my shirt.  Let me tell you it’s a drag trying to untangle earphones out of the sleeves of your shirt.

Just the general sudden hand movements that drag the earphones quickly and violently from one’s ear.  That just plain hurts and kind of pisses me off because I am usually concentrating on some important thought and that messes up my flow.

Have you ever been zapped by static while wearing earphones?  Boy, that’s no fun.  I suffer enough brain zapps before my medicine kicks in the morning thank you very much.

What Christmas Means To Me….

Published on by cmglife

You start off thinking you’ve got it all covered.

One small gift for each of the women in the office. So that’s it right? Three gifts.  Go to The Body Shop in the mall and buy three small, $10 body butters in nice holiday packaging.  No need to wrap, slap a card on them and good to go right?

Oh, not so fast!  A dilemma: Another friend whom I did not get a gift gave me a present of a tiny water feature that will sit on my desk to give me tranquility.  To the card she taped a marble, in case I lost my last one (she has no idea just how close she got it).  I was seriously touched.  I think she is great, but I wanted to keep a reign on my gift giving for money purposes and I had a good plan.  How could I not reciprocate at this point when the woman gave me a marble and a fountain of all things?  Now if I give her a gift, will she think I did because she gave me one? She, of course, would be correct.

I just received a text from my friend in the office.  Do I want to put in twenty dollars for a gift card from us in the office for our administration?  Wait a minute I think …where does this stop?

I just want to honor the true meaning of Christmas, gift etiquette.

Betrayed by Normalcy

Published on by cmglife

I don’t feel so upbeat anymore.  It doesn’t feel chemical, it feels more environmental.  I have a lot on my mind right now.

Allison in puberty…puberty or a miniature version of me?  I’m trying not to be ultra sensitive to her mood swings.  Crying, fits of anger.  It feels all too familiar and it is wearing on me. How should I handle it?

Dying friend, do I really have to say more? Sending a funny card once a week feels lame.

John’s got some health problems.  Threats and self help strategies just don’t seem to be making a dent.

Everyday life.

In the old days I would freak out for a few days, contemplate for another few and then act without any thought.  I would get it done.  These days I am so “normal” that I’m drowning in a whirlpool of practicality and cowardice. What the “old” me would do would have been brave and brilliant.  Now I am a dud, dead in the water… a wet blanket.  Feeling betrayed by my life in a different way.

I must knock myself free of the drug addled normalcy I am living.  This just doesn’t get any easier does it?

Epic Spills

Published on by cmglife

During my life I have experienced many detrimental spills.

“Oh my God!” You exclaim,”What a sorry uneventful life you must have endured to remember spills!”

Well, my memories are scattered at best.  I don’t have any idea why I can remember the smell of a certain event and my thought pattern during it, but cannot recall going to a party two weeks ago.  It is very frustrating to say the least.  I feel dumb a lot of the time.

With my co-workers and friends I can usually get away with them believing I do remember the event I was a key player in.  I have to be careful not to say “I don’t remember” too often.  When I do have to say it, I can only allow them to give me a limited number of details. After it looks like I might have a grasp on the forgotten event, I lie and agree that I do indeed remember.  It’s a miracle that I’ve made it so far in life with my mask still in place.

Crazy never stops when you are saddled with a history of Bipolar II.  It feels like my memory capacity has been eaten away by some sort of casuistic chemical caused by this condition.

Hey, wait a minute! How did I get so side tracked from my lifetime of epic spills?

The first one I can remember when I was four in England.  Back then they let small children go down to the shops and buy loaves of bread.  I took a loaf from the shelf, grabbing the wrong end.  All of the bread fell out onto the floor.  The shop people were very nice about it but, that was it for me.  I didn’t shop again until I was six!

On Saturday mornings when I was a little older my sister and I would go to the local department store to hang around and get items for my mom.  Hair color was on the list on this particular Saturday.  In a strange coincidence the bottom of that box also gave out and the dark brown hair dye bottle hit the ground and shattered!  Mortified is the best way to explain my eight year old feelings.

26 years ago Emily spilled red artificial colored juice on the carpet that cost me my deposit on an apartment.

While visiting home one summer my husband fell asleep with a very dark beer on a futon. We had to shamefully explain what happened to my dad.  I don’t remember replacing it.  Did we?  No memory of that…means nothing.

Tristan kicked my glass of red wine on our new $1300 pillow top mattress.  Of course, it was my side.  To this day I still sleep on a brown stained corner.

Last year my phone was plugged into the truck and as I reached to answer it I caught a very full Starbucks with the cord and spilled an entire Grande vanilla late on me, the seat and the floor of John’s new truck. Yes, the same one as in the aforementioned parking garage.

This morning Allison was rolling around on the floor doing something flexible with her legs in the air and my terminator like vision zoomed in on a half-filled glass of wine across the room on a side table.

“Watch that glass!” I yelled and finally avoided another epic spill.