I haven’t felt very good for a long while. The stress, while not very high in general, has manifested in a semi-permanent case of heartburn.
I never say anything; I don’t want to hear about it from people with kids (which is every one I know these days) who love to tell me that I couldn’t POSSIBLY know what stress is.
Everyone’s got to top you, you know? Like, just come out and say my stresses — mom, apartment, money, sanity, loneliness (well the 1% of it that isn’t self-imposed), car and other random people who need to lose my number — are lesser than yours.
Of course, everyone thinks their stresses are worse than anyone else’s. But it’s easier to just put on a happy face and let everyone think all is well. Because then you don’t have to hear about their woes. And I like the silence very much.
I saw an opinion piece today about when it’s time to cut friends loose. And I had to laugh because every single bullet point describes me. In other words, I don’t pick up the phone … ask about jobs/kids/significant others/parents … reply in a timely manner unless I need something … or say hi just to say hi. Nope, not me.
Small talk has always annoyed me. Standing around parties, going 19 rounds with the same person — “Things good?” Yup. “What’s up?” Nothing. “Done anything fun lately?” Nope — makes me nuts.
Then because it’s Christmas you get the inevitable, “What are you doing with your time off?” I mean do you kick them in the nuts because they get two weeks off and you don’t, or just go mate with the bottle of wine that you swear has your name etched into it?
I am feeling old because I don’t want to drive anywhere anymore. I mean there are redneck assholes no matter where you go. But they all seem to be concentrated in Palm Beach County. And I’m sick of, say, seeing holiday lights like I did last night. And then getting tailgated by some asshole for two miles who doesn’t see the posted 25 mph signs so he is screaming and throwing the finger 22 times on a barely paved road. ‘Tis the season to despise humankind more than usual.
Calgon (or wine. Whichever), you know what to do.