Thursday, January 5, 2012
Mood Swings Aren't As Much Fun as Park Swings
This is how my day has gone:
I woke up at 6 am feeling sick to my stomach. I made myself eat breakfast, though. I made breakfast for the kids, too.
After they left for the bus stop, I thought about going back to bed. I didn't. I fought it.
I told myself to do just one chore and then see how I felt.
So I cleaned Jacob's bathroom. It stunk horribly. It felt good to scrub the sink, tub, and toilet, and mop the floor. I always feel better when the house is clean.
Then I figured out why it smelled so bad. The p-trap under the sink rusted out. The foul smell was sewer smell. Great.
I called the plumbing company. The woman who answered the phone told me the plumber could be here between noon and 4. I told her what the problem was. I made a joke about blaming my teenage son for the horrid stench coming from the bathroom, that I'd have to apologize for accusing him of smelling like sewage. She laughed.
I am excellent on the phone. I am the queen of banter. Unless I'm on the phone with someone at AT&T and then I'm the queen of cursing. But, in general, interacting with people is always good for my mood because I feel a responsibility to be cheerful and funny.
When I got off the phone, I thought about how I used to be married to a plumber. I thought about how he used to work for the company I called. When I bought this house, I joked to him that I was only buying it because I had a personal plumber on call. If he were still alive, he would come over and fix the p-trap, no problem, and he'd probably make me laugh while he was doing it.
So I took a shower and washed my hair and then got out and dried my hair. I always feel better when I am clean.
I thought about emailing someone I'm trying not to email.
I emailed Tina instead and told her what I would say to the person I'm not emailing. "How are you? How were the holidays? What are you up to? Are you aware of how much you suck? Sincerely, Amy."
That made me laugh.
I read a few chapters of Mockingjay, the third book in The Hunger Games trilogy (which I need to finish so I can get back to Anna Karenina).
The plumber arrived around 2 and gave me the bad news. He has to knock out some of the tile wall. And the cost of all this will basically be the money I got for Christmas, money I was going to use for other necessities like groceries and light bulbs and dandruff shampoo. He didn't have everything he needed in his truck, so he'll be back tomorrow and I can write him a big, fat check then.
After the plumber left, I went to pick up Kate at drama club. I cried on the drive there. The car is my crying place. You can wear sunglasses and no one knows you're crying. My other crying place is the shower because no one can hear you crying.
It's very important to hide the crying.
When Kate got in the car, she asked me to stop at the gas station for a snack and I yelled at her about what a stupid waste of money that is. Because I suck.
When we got home, I put chicken nuggets and fries in the oven and told the kids I was going to Piloxing. (Piloxing is a combination of Pilates and boxing.)
I cried on the drive there.
I was right outside the door of the studio when I thought, "I can leave. I can sit in the car and cry some more and then go home."
But I went in. I worked out for an hour. I felt good almost right away. Sweating and jumping around and punching the air are all great mood-lifters.
My improved mood lasted for most of the ride home, but then I started thinking about how I should stop paying for that class. I gave myself a year off work to figure out what the hell I was doing with the rest of my life and the year is up. Sure, I'm nearly finished with my book, but I'm nowhere near knowing what to do with my life next. And it's time for something to happen. I need money in the bank. I need some damn idea of where my life is headed.
I came in and heated up chicken nuggets and fries in the microwave. I sat on the sofa while I ate. Kate and I watched a recording of How I Met Your Mother. At the end, I got teary-eyed. In my defense, so did Kate. The entire episode was about one character visiting his dad's grave and another character getting an unexpected visit from her dad. We cry easily over dad stuff around here.
I surfed the 'net for a bit and found a story about the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly. Look who's on the cover.
Nice. I have a subscription to EW so this issue should be in my mailbox tomorrow. And it is only 10 days until The Golden Globes will be on TV and George will be wearing a tuxedo for several hours.
You know what would be awesome? If George dated someone like Viola Davis instead of women who are half his age and not very interesting. The sad truth is that my pretend boyfriend George Clooney has far better taste in women than the real George Clooney.
Real men suck.
Basically, I've been like this all day:
On that positive note, I'm going to bed.