Caterwauling

I’m so used to having just myself and my trusty sidekick, who can do any and everything between the two of us.

Then I got a project in which I have to rely on others.

It’s my own fault that it took me two days to finish my part of the project. I mean, it’s not like I was out partying or celebrating my birthday or anything. I’ve been burning my grey matter something fierce on other projects.

But then when we handed the project over, it stalled.

I remembered it today and started poking. Then someone else who is responsible for it poked me and I’m like yeah I’m poking.

I mean it’s not their fault they didn’t hop right on it. I forgot that not everyone is my trusty sidekick where that’s kind of understood to put out that fire before it becomes a fire.

So now everything is on fire. And it brings me back to why I just need to be able to do everything. I don’t have to inconvenience a soul when I can do it all.

Of course, it’s been one of those weeks (months) in which everything I touch turns to whatever the opposite of gold is. Even the projects where I am the alpha and the omega.

I like to think the “10 cherry tomatoes short of a salad” would collapse with this feeling I feel of just not being enough or doing enough or doing it RIGHT or doing it in the right time frame or saying things the right way or thinking 22 steps ahead because 10 steps ahead isn’t enough.

I mean, they sure lack the charm to help everyone to help them.

On the other hand, maybe being a total dumbass makes you oblivious to the feeling of utter and complete failure. Since it’s kind of a constant in their lives anyway.

I don’t know. But I do know I just bugged out on my birthday lunch to deal with these things. I can’t even get a goddamned lunch date right.

Every time I hear that “Confident” song, I think of Blake, Emerson and Scott on “The People’s Couch” singing it. 

Then I think of someone who has never missed an early bird special, and I sing “What’s wrong with being Competent?”

I was particularly grumbly about it Friday night and yesterday morning. But as always I try to find grace. Usually in the form of knowing one of us hasn’t lost sight of achieving greatness.  

But having an anchor doesn’t make you swim farther. Dead weight makes you drown. No matter how much your pudgy pork roast butt fights to float. 

I got to thinking about progressive responsibility. And while I don’t think I ever shirked it (I volunteered to do a lot of stuff over the decades for the sake of experience), my progressive learning has come more from research. You know, something immeasurable by most standards. 

In other words, I don’t think getting smarter gets you further. Not without action.  And my measure is being able to work faster. Which no one else would know. 

I got away from writing because there was too much else going on. Last week I had a man down so I wrote more than usual. 

It was hard at first. And my first drafts weren’t great. But I liked my final edits. And I LOVED writing again. 

But is that progressive to go BACK to what you used to be known for?

I guess it’s better than being known as the person who can’t be bothered to stay five seconds late to complete a simple task. 

Let’s see. 

Got up (too) early. Jagoff neighbors walking ballistic dogs at 4:30 am. Boo. 

Had time to get mom breakfast. Since I came home too late last night to feed either of us. Win. 

Worked my ass off today. Brain used. Got to write even though it was the last thing I needed at the time. All was well though. Win. 

Overcame a massive meltdown. I had grand plans of surprising a friend at lunch for her birthday. Fail. Got invited to lunch elsewhere five minutes after new writing project arrived and after postponing massive project that was due (and is now overdue). Fail. 3 pm rolls around, I finally get a gift and a card and leave the surprise on her desk. Win. Order Starbucks mobile. Win again although I hate that they all know me by name now. 

Technological difficulties. Per usue. My computer hates me and clearly so might the gods who would let me take it to the shooting range. Is it a fail if it already eats up 10 hours a week?

But, cool visitor in the office today. And a good dinner invite for later this week that I don’t deserve. But it makes up for today’s frustration with everyone I’ve ever met in my whole entire life. Win. 

Bad, terrible, awful news though today.  Money, pain and suffering. Fail. Fail. Fail. 

Almost got in two accidents. First, turning down a street and asshole barreling toward me in the wrong lane. I brake. Almost get rear ended by asshole not paying attention. Second, stopping for dark-cloaked pedestrian who is in NO HURRY to finish jaywalking. Almost get rear-ended again. No collisions. Miraculously. Double win. 

God is nothing but impeccable with Her timing. Never a second too soon with help. But right on time to the dot, I say. 

More to do tonight. Tired but neighbors fighting. Can’t concentrate but can’t sleep either. Fail. 

I tried. I really did. 

I was talking to an old friend over some wine last night. We never really gossip but we were conjuring up a memory of some guy who used to work for our friend Bernie. 

A worker overheard us. Stopped everything she was doing, flounced over to us and declared she is Bernie’s BIGGEST fan and she will NOT have us disrespecting him. 

I had been chanting Bernie’s name in a cheer. How’s that disrespectful?

We both had puzzled looks on our faces. She kept going, “I tell everyone I am voting for him. I don’t care who wants to know.”

I said, “Not your Bernie.” And went back to my booze. My friend engaged her in political talk since he saw Bernie in person and had stories to thrill her with. 

And while a part of me wanted to do what I did at the Hillary for America event and tell people to just vote Democratic, because we have a chance to not vote in bums, I didn’t. 

Normally I’d be happy to see someone keeping Cruzio out of office. But man, it’s feeling very Washingtonian in Florida these days. I miss it most days but other days, let me drink in peace, ok?

I was going to post about the lady who blared her horn at me at a red light today. When I was fourth in line behind a bus. Sigh. 

But I’d rather talk about the nice guy who, when I was crossing a street yesterday, called out, “Be careful!”

I was walking west and he was headed south.  He saw a car flying  (I’d gander going 55 in a 25) and about to careen on two wheels around my corner  where I was crossing. 

I ran as fast as I could and yelled out “Thank you!” And waved when I was safe. 

I am quick to hate the drivers and neighbors I encounter. But it’s heartwarming to know there are kind people here too. 

I used to think snowbirds were the problem. God knows tourists mucked up the flow when I was in D.C. 

Visitors aren’t the problem here.  It’s the douchebags who have set up residence in my county, for the most part. 

Give me a tourist any old day.  Better yet, get me away from the other residents and it’ll all be just fine. 

As my relaxation time was interrupted last night by the upstairs neighbor dropping cuss bombs and stomping around like a 2-year-old (he’s my age), something occurred to me.

I’ve been focusing on getting out of South Florida. But the truth is, I am perfectly fine and happy here. It’s people like HIM who need to hit the bricks, not me.

It’s been chilly lately. I ran down to Senor Burrito for takeout last night and it was 63 degrees. I was in a summer dress and flip-flops and my lone hoodie and I was COLD.

Picture me back up north in the snow. Go on. Remember how many times I fell on my ass on the ice because I will only wear dress boots with my dresses. Keep in mind I am short and pants never fit right so it’s skirts or bust.

Yeah. Not pretty.

So, it was an interesting moment for me. My idea of escape is to REALLY escape. Like, “turning in my citizenship card” escape. When all I really need is a big fat reprieve from shitheads.

Is there such a thing? Because, that’s got to be my goal. Not running away from what makes me happy. Because, believe it or not, I am generally a happy and lucky soul. You only get to hear about the shitheads here. And I’m really tired of giving them airtime.

Ugh.

I wish I had friends. Then when I have offers coming in like I do right now, I just want to scream.

I already have phone anxiety. People need to text, I always think, instead of call.

But then people text and then I have that same punch-in-the-gut feeling.

I waffle between “I prefer people I only see every now and again” and “If you’re not going to be around for much longer, why invest in you?”

I think of all the people who walked out of my life without a word or explanation and I think of some others, why can’t people let me do that too? Why do you want something from me I’ve never gotten?

Then I think well maybe do I tell the world to go away so I don’t have to get a raging case of anxiety every time the phone rings or chimes?

But what if that means I would never hear from the people I might actually LOVE to hear from someday?

This doesn’t refer to the messages in Faceypages messenger. Honest to God I hate clicking on that app. I’m always glad when I do. But it just takes me a good long while to get there. So if I owe you a message, know I’ve responded happily in my head, at the very least.

My mom is still friends with her high school besties. I’m the oldest of their kids — oddly, we were all only children, two girls and a boy. 

The girl liked the same designer purses I did. Then she moved to the same part of D.C. that I inhabited. Then after I said I wanted a certain kind of car, she wanted it too. 

Coincidence? Maybe. Her parents gave her everything. Every opportunity. They did without do she could have it all. 

She turned out lovely. Beautiful inside and out. And successful. And generous. 

She got engaged in London today. 

I’m trying to be happy. But I moved to D.C. to get the great job with all the great international travel perks and the great apartment and the great guy and the great life. 

But it went to her. All of it. 

I just don’t understand the universe right now. 

I just ordered the cutest Christmas ornament on Etsy. 

And as is my default, I thought of at least six people who would love one, too. 

But as is my real default, I put seven of them in my shopping cart.  You know, instead of just sending a link to potentially interested parties. 

In the end I bought two. One for mom and one for “just in case.” Whether that’s an emergency gift or a backup in case it breaks or something for my desk is anyone’s guess. 

I have never given a gift to get anything back. I’ve never traveled to see someone or put them up in a hotel down here or bought them a meal with the foggiest notion that it was somehow now “their turn.”

But …

It cannot always be my turn. 

Can it?

You have no idea how weird it is for me to think of someone and then do nothing with that thought. 

Maybe I’m finally growing … and not just in clothing size. 

It’s 5 p.m. and I was hoping to be on the road right now. But I still have work to do and I haven’t packed.

Also I am pissed off at Starwood.

I booked a hotel and, a few hours later, decided I wanted to buy an extra day. So I tried (and failed) to be able to do so through the Starwood app. It said I had to give up my room type because they were out of the rooms I like.

So I fired up Priceline.com and saw my type of room available, at the rate I had locked in.

But rather than having to switch rooms, I called the hotel and said I would like to add a day. I did not care what rate I had to pay for the additional day.

Welp, the guy told me I could add that day … and totally lose the deal I had gotten on the days I had paid for already.

So let me get this straight. I as a member got a great rate. I as a member wanted to spend more money to buy an additional day. I as a member would have to pay another $15 a day for three nights I had already paid cash for.

Hmmm.

They told me to call HQ and didn’t give me the number. I said I will happily take my business elsewhere.

I mean, I will go for the days I already paid for. But screw it. I’m tired and I’m going to stay local tonight.

Last year I had stayed at Hilton and decided to extend my stay. They said sure, took my card and charged me THE SAME RATE for the extra day.

Guess who gets my business from now on … and who should have gotten it in the first place?