I feel like that person who runs a marathon only to collapse five feet before the finish line.
The boys are in a morning camp this week which gives me a couple hours to myself. Lately I’ve noticed some troubling changes in my energy levels. I’m tired all the time, I want eat constantly, am not effective at all around the house and have a short fuse. I’m suffused with ennui.
I Google imaged ennui and this picture of Gwynneth Paltrow turned up. Right. This is exactly what depression and comfort eating looks like.
Actually, it looks more like this:
Put a block of cheddar and a remote control next to this bad boy and you’d be getting a little closer.
It doesn’t help that EVERYONE I KNOW (Lemony) is doing some kind of über-cleanse and making me feel even worse about myself. No you aren’t, I’m just being lame.
My first inclination is to think I’m depressed, because that’s kind of what it feels like. Given my druthers, I’d happily sit in bed all day, read a crime novel and eat cheese. Dream vacation, right?
But no, I don’t think it’s that. I think I’m hitting that part of the summer marathon where I want to fall on my face and have EMTs drive me off the course and administer strong intravenous narcotics. But no! I have a plan.
Shé graduates from CU in three days and I’m going to hire her to help me get this shit back under control. I’m going to demand that she work in a tiny outfit to, you know, cheer me up. Tabby is going out of town and dropping Pugsly, AKA The Dictator off at my house along with the snake bitten Chihuahua, AKA The English Patient.
Part of my malaise is keeping the boys occupied and constantly being on call to respond to whatever petty emergency might arise:
“MOM! MY DOODLE BUGS ARE RUNNING OUT OF HABITAT SPACE AND I NEED YOU TO GO TO THE STORE AND GET MORE TUPPERWEAR CONTANERS!” No.
“MOM! THIS LASER TAG THING ISN’T BEING FAIR!” Ask me if I care.
Oh that’s right, I should savor these moments. If any of my readers are jonesing to feel needed, come on over. I can hand off two sweaty balls of need to you for the afternoon. You can do art projects, dig up bugs and build shanty towns out of cardboard boxes to your heart’s content.
I have a plan to handle this by giving the boys their own black holes of need. The Dictator demands absolute togetherness. He must have his face inches away from yours and maintain TOTAL EYE CONTACT. He’s going to be Testiclese’s
problem job for the next week.
And Scrotus can exercise his desire to create/micromanage the perfect healing environment for The English Patient. He can pamper and dote on the rodent all week because if Tabby comes back to a dead dog, she’s going to kill me.
Time to cut the crap.
Slap Chop As Seen On TV. I love these and I use them until they break. For a long time I would save the parts that didn’t break for, uh, later? The whole thing is TRASH but thank God I have a hoard of them in my basement. Don’t judge.
Bitchin’ citrus juicer, but I already have one and Jason doesn’t so I GAVE THIS TO HIM because I love going to his house and watching the kids play outside while I drink margaritas. (Cushy, don’t be mad, I’m working on finding the perfect one for you.)
Did you know that I have two basements? The one with the records looks good compared to the other one. I’m too ashamed to even take a picture of it but when I need to get rid of shit I just go in there. Lonny’s Spidey Sense tingles when I go down there because he’s all over me like white on rice. He’s all scared that I’ll get rid of something valuable.
Like these old newspapers and seed catalogues. RECYCLE.
Or these empty file folders and stupid headphones. Speak up quickly if you want the headphones. The folders are TRASH.
Or these size 12 toddler cleats if you just love watching time stand still at PeeWee baseball. $5. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that we will never watch this J.Lo DVD. Lonny said he didn’t pay $10 for it. He’s a damn liar. TRASH.
Or these binders of Apple program installation discs circa 1998. Hell, they change their OS and connector chords every few years. I sure am glad we kept these around! TRASH.
What about these desiccated baby wipes that I never even used? Litter Maid refill containers (I can find the whole thing and give it to you for $10, and IT WORKS) and a book on tape. TRASH and SELL.
I’m glad we still have these even though we don’t have a VHS player which is a shame because I really miss the high quality image that you can only get on VHS. ahahahahaha! TRASH.
A water bottle that has a hole in it (and water!) and an old tupperwear. TRASH.