Caterwauling

I probably spend far more time analyzing situations than others do. It’s because I don’t know what I don’t know — and that includes what others are actually thinking.

I’ve never in my life asked to do less work. But with working from home a benefit that has ceased of late, I am working later and it’s screwing up my home life in a big way.

Last night I missed my shot to pick up the ham I ordered. And they have extended holiday hours. (I had to get up stupid-early to get it today. And got stuck in traffic because people are idiots.)

So with nowhere to go and nothing to lose, I threw a hail mary pass and asked to maybe replace some of next week’s projects with some others. Because usually I have to do those extra projects on my free time (nights/weekends). And it’s Christmas and I’d like to see my mom while I still have her. As she reminds me, everyone else gets to eat with their families.

My suggestion to replace A with B was not met with success. I didn’t get it and it dawned on me later that folks must have thought I was trying to do less.

But that wasn’t really the thing. It was more like wanting to knock out things that have been on the to-do list all year (research, writing reports, hiring help) that required blocks of time and therefore get shoved aside for all the other stuff that’s more urgent.

Because when I get asked (and rightfully so) about those OTHER things, I get apoplectic. I’m already apoplectic after that fucked-up election and the fact that Russia helped install a demagogue into our presidency. I would like a little peace where I can get it.

In any event, I got what I really wanted out of it, which was a n upcoming restoration of remote access. It’s not the “good” access but it will certainly do for now. And that I might actually get to have a hot meal with my mom again is the real win.

Some people want houses and marriages and kids and trips and TVs and “stuff.” I just want time. And health. And since you don’t get “extra” of either, to maximize the current allotment.

Was not quite feeling festive this morning. Was redder than the dress I ended up wearing to the Christmas party, actually.

Mom said don’t go. Avoid any more chances to be upset. 

I fucking put on that red dress and had a hell of a good time. Because THAT is what a Goddess does.

When I left, she commended my choice to go to the ball. “That fireplace will be there tomorrow, Cinderelly.”

Also, where else could I rock my fabulous new hat?

There’s an organic food place I visit two or three times a week. 

They advertised for Christmas dinners. Ham or turkey. Caprese or Brie en croute. Root veggies and bourbon pecan pie. Order now for Saturday pickup. 

So I ordered … and was told they can’t help me because I only need two meals. 10 minimum. Didn’t you read the sign?

Then they emailed again. Ok we will sell you five meals. Deal?

Dude. I did not shit out three kids overnight. 

Great to know that a family of five is more important than me trying to perk up our sad little Christmas with a special meal. 

So basically, a longtime regular customer spending $40 for two meals isn’t important. The way to make me feel better is to charge me $100. 

Welcome to Trump’s America, folks. 

(Also, fuck the electors who voted for him. Double-fuck the Hillary defectors. I was rooting for Kasich or McCain anyway, but Jesus the electors ex-Supran are as dumb as the people they represent. )

In any event, my money spends just fine anywhere I take it. I’m just pissed that now I have to come up with a new plan instead of a place I like and trust. And sad that I could be referring to either a restaurant or a country I’ve lost faith in. 

When I started this masterpiece 15 years ago, all I really talked about were my relationships. Then it was all about work and occasional Ecstasy use and song lyrics. Then veiled contempt for neighbors, some daytime situations and pretty much everyone I’ve ever known, buried beneath positive stories of people and things that did not suck the will to live from my very being.

Today I find myself once again stripped of my ability to work from home on a Friday. And I’m like, fuck it. Advantage: Goddess. Use it.

So, I thought about someone I’ve bumped into around town here and there, and set an intention to run into said person.

I don’t often get out at lunch and certainly not for long. But today I finished a project (that’s been sapping my will to live all week, mostly because of 13 long calls and limited “focus” time) right around 12:30.

And I know I will see this person right around 12 at a certain coffee shop.

So I headed that way.

And I actually walked past it and grabbed a salad nearby.

Was walking back to my camp when I thought, eh. I really could use some coffee. At this point it’s 12:45 and no chance of seeing anything interesting.

Right?

Well …

I have a smile on right now. That is all.

I don’t need progress. I don’t even want progress. We all know I fear it anyway. The universe likes to take away the good things, so best to not really have too many.

Naturally, I was an idiot. Couldn’t talk or function quite right. I’m sure it showed even more than I think it did.

But still.

I like my shirt today, I like my lunch, I like my coffee, I like the final result of my project and I like the 15 minutes midday of anticipation, relief and maybe even a little reward.

Look at me, being brave.

My cool Melissa Etheridge goddess shirt …

This week, I heard of two major resignations in my field. 

In my job function, too. 

Two MORE, I should say. 

As usual, folks left without something else lined up. 

My playwright friend asked yesterday, “Who broke your heart?”

“Everyone,” I told her. 

I don’t want their jobs. And I certainly don’t need to deal with the ones who broke their hearts too. 

Trying to figure out when I’m going to get my Christmas errands done when I don’t even have time to leave for lunch or exit anywhere close to on time.

Fuck, I bring Xmas cards with me every day. Yesterday I didn’t even eat at all. And not one personal errand got done till I shoved (way too much) food in around 8.

(Cards still unaddressed/unwritten beside me …)

Then you get those weird questions about what you/your folks do all day. (Dance circles around the ones no one is asking about for $100, Alex.)

Also, one of those errands? I need a fucking tree since mine FELL ON ME while I was sleeping in front of it the other night.

Returned that shit. Just haven’t figured out a Plan B.

And at this rate, I probably won’t.

I fell asleep way past midnight, thinking of my recently deceased friend and wishing I could ask her a question about a known liar’s conversation with a big pussy.

If she were still here on earth, she’d give me a good opinion. I can only imagine what she’s seeing now.

Fell asleep and dreamed that I walked into a restaurant. Saw my grandparents and my mom and my Uncle Ed at a table. Was walking over to them when …

THE FIRE ALARMS WENT OFF.

All.

Night.

Long.

Then the new neighbor upstairs started stomping around, just like I did the other night to inspire the women downstairs to cut the freaking TV volume.

Anyway, left for work super-early and super-pissed at the universe.

Then …

Went to my favorite Starbucks that I rarely visit because it’s by the old office and we have another, lesser location in our backyard.

(I had to go there to pee twice yesterday, so I can’t talk smack about them. The baristas gave me their code to use their restroom. Traffic jams at my place.)

In any event …

My favorite barista was stocking shelves. She took a quick look at me and said …

“You better stop that. A gust of wind is going to blow you away pretty soon!”

🙂

Yeah, that made my day.

A colleague from up at HQ said something similar yesterday too.

That melts everything else away.

Also, yeah. I look a little different than what they may remember …

Thanksgiving in Key West 2010 and 2016

That moment when you have a ton to contribute to a discussion but you do your “German scream” (SNL. Kate McKinnon as Angela Merkel. Genius.) so you don’t open an opportunity to feel like shit. 

Old ladies downstairs were blasting their TV all night with the windows open. 

I could take it till 12:15. Then I did an Irish jig, some booty poppin and some shit stomping around the house. 

They turned the TV off. 

Too bad I was too het up to fall asleep for four hours. 

Now if I can get them to stop chainsmoking because it makes my momma sneeze …

They say vacations stimulate your creativity.

I wasn’t so sure at first. I spent the week losing sleep, thinking about all the stuff that gives me anxiety every day anyway. That service we need to close, the product lineup. the kinds of people we need to hire who just don’t exist, shifts that need to happen that I can’t outline here, and basically the feeling of being so overwhelmed (and other adjectives) about it all.

But I started reading a book that I am not ready to talk about here. And it has helped me to be more aware of my role in things. Not that I feel like I can put out the fires by myself. But I can try to not feel so crushed, and it only takes some small fixes to do it.

When I travel, for example, I put my phone in “airplane” mode. It saves the battery and I don’t get 42 alerts an hour on whatever psycho the Orange Clownfish is appointing to his Cabinet. But when I turn the phone back on … woweee. Everything hits at once.

So I recognize, hey maybe I don’t need to be getting alerts from 20 news apps. I mean yes it helps because some write the headlines/nut grafs better (and more accurately) than others. But gah, the anxiety it triggers now that my candidate — the safe, lovely, experienced, charming grandma with whom I felt my future was safe — is hiding in the woods and this nutty fucker is up rage-tweeting against “Saturday Night Live” while I’m trying to watch it.

(Aside: As I tweeted to the orange menace himself, I agree — SNL isn’t funny. It’s FACTUAL because he’s a PARODY already.)

(Aside 2: I have never tweeted President Obama, or VP Biden, with anything other than a thank you or a congratulations. But this fucker? I wish I could say how I really feel about his Nazi-loving ass. Jesus. My grandfather fought the Nazis and now we are inviting them to run the country. I’m so glad he isn’t here to witness this.)

In any event, I think I also need to unsub from most eletters too. I found myself fascinated by politics when I thought competent people were going to be/remain in charge of them. Now it’s all such a joke. I might as well do something more productive with my downtime.

I know this isn’t creative, by any means. But it’s a start.

And I did get a really good idea that I’m not going to talk about. Because I don’t do anything once I’ve written it down. But I type this to say I wouldn’t have had the idea had I not been walking around paradise with nary a thought in my head other than, “What cocktail am I going to order next?”

(That’d be “coconut mojito,” for those playing along at home.)

OK, back to the salt mines. Good to be away. Good to have something to come back to. Even if it’s the same thing I left. My goal is for things to be better before my next escape. Even if my adherence to my values is the only thing that improves, that’ll still be a good thing.