Caterwauling

After I blocked my friend on FB who asked if I was anti-Semitic, I forgot about her.

She messaged last night through Insta to ask if she was blocked because she asked if I was anti-Semitic.

I deleted it. Didn’t block.

I don’t discount the years of friendship. I also have no goddamn energy left for this discussion.

At the point I feel like I need to edit or censor the memes I post … nah.

Saw a great meme and I think I saved it. That “You don’t have to block a Gemini. They won’t be calling you.”

That popped into my head as I saw two of my college friends discussing the return of Chi-Chi’s.

I’d made the comment that I invested in their Reg-CF. Meaning, my little check is part of the reason it’s back. (Also my shares are down, but whatcha gonna do.)

It occurred to me that there was a third person in that chat who wasn’t me.

For real, asshole? You have ME blocked? For what?

Like the meme says, you are in NO danger of hearing from me.

I never understood him. Not to invoke him, as I was pretty aware as I walked through Brooklyn that Beetlejuice could pop out of any local graveyard.

I was so aware that I didn’t even look up his address. Like … I put the protective bubble around me, and I’m thrilled I got out of there without his whiny little bitch ass seeing me.

But he de-friended and blocked me across seven platforms. And there are like six new platforms since then that he probably blocked me on too.

Christ, whatever the obsession is, I hope you’ve let it go. Or maybe you and Cindy can compare notes, as I’m sure she unblocks me daily to see how much happier I am now that I unloaded all these losers from my life.

One of my employees had a dream that I sent a Teams message to the ED group.

“Fuck it, I’m out.”

Interesting that this is someone’s subconscious.

I told him his dream may come true around review time. He knows reviews are just one more thing to write.

What I didn’t say is it may come true when my boss roasts me for not doubling content output.

Content that, when I did it, was getting no traction because no one knew it was there. No clicks, no sales … NO POINT.

I was telling my employee about the previous me. And how I didn’t like the version of me that was doing all the things.

I made mom sit at home alone all day. I worked nights and weekends. I talked nonstop about work and the lazy MFers who weren’t working as much as me.

(I wonder if Don’t Treadmill On Me gets these same discussions. I fail to quantify what goes on over there. But I do know that role is commissioned. But not, say, the person who picks winning trades.)

Now, I give my evenings and weekends to me. Other than all the goddamn emotional labor I put in thinking or worrying or — gee, I don’t know — TAKING CALLS from my editors in different time zones.

Yesterday was Friday. I wrote three articles.

One I would have written anyway. Two were bonuses.

I don’t expect a thank-you for that.

No one will even notice unless they get mad that I wrote about Hunter Biden. That’ll get me a love note.

But hey, it’ll be noticed, right?

Also, I wasn’t kidding about hating that version of me.

I feel good that I ramped it up and met the moment.

I also spent from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. curled up in a goddamn fetal position on the couch.

Not blaming anyone. I wanted to do it, I did it, and now at 8 a.m. I can finally feel the stress leaving my body.

I have so much more work to do today. This is what always happens.

Now my weekend will be intruded upon with boss’ weird idea for the monthly newsletter I spend more effort trying not to hate than I spend on cleaning my house.

But first … Practical Magic 2 with my witches! And margaritas in a blender.