I’m hitting publish on this and going to bed. Usually, I hit publish and then go re-read and THEN proofread/edit/revise. But not tonight, babies. I’m getting my little grey kitten and snuggling up with a book, some Words with Friends (you can play me there – I totally suck and you’ll feel good about yourself), and some bad TV. I gotta go back to the bear pit tomorrow, 7:30 AM.
When I have these long breaks, I’m just going to stop fooling myself. I’m not going to get a damn thing done. I’m just not. I’m going to stay up until 1 or 2 o’clock in the morning playing Solitaire or Word Whizzle or Words with Friends (thanks, sweet friend Susan for getting me re-addicted to THAT game). Or I’m going to veg out in front of Netflix. Or with a book. I’ll empty and do a load of dishes here and there. Clean my bathroom at least once. Do laundry and fold it, then leave it in a corner of the bedroom as we pull clothes from until it’s just a gigantic heap of “is this washed? or do we need to wash it? oh, fine, guess we’ll just throw this whole thing in the washer and do another load.” And I’ll cook and clean up the kitchen and stuff. But MAJOR projects? Not happening. Not during the non-summer months. (And, truth be told, probably not during the summer months either…while I get my head screwed on right.) (This head screwing project is taking FOR. EVER. by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not).
I’m done apologizing for things, that’s for sure. Unless I majorly screw up – spill a secret you specifically said: DON’T SPILL or run over your dog or something, nope. No more I’m sorrys out of me. Unless you’re my boss, and then I’ll probably end up weeping on your shoulder at some point and begging for forgiveness. Because I need a paycheck. So I’m not! I’m not going to apologize for lying around like a lazy sloth when I’m on a break. And I’m not going to apologize for over-thinking because that’s just what I do, and if you are to love me, you will love my weird brain and insecurities too.
I bet you’re going: woah. What in the heck?? What brought THIS on, Amy?? Well, Christmas. Specifically Christmas decorations. I was supposed to take them down yesterday but I couldn’t deal with anything beyond lying on my sofa and playing Solitaire and complaining about Trump on Twitter. And then I was supposed to take them down today, but I slept until 10:00 and then I did laundry and now I have to go be back at work at 7:30 AM tomorrow and I’m just going to pretend that it’s still Christmas and this isn’t happening. I’m even wearing my Ho Ho Ho comfy grey Santa t-shirt. (This is pretty much how I’m approaching most everything now, except for bills…and the change oil warning light that just started popping on in my car today. I only deal with what I can deal with, when I have to absolutely deal with it.)
And NO APOLOGIZING. What other New Year’s things am I going to do this year? Let’s see…well, not start a diet. Today, after dropping off Miss M with her dad, I went to the grocery store and bought a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough, salted caramel ice cream, tortilla chips/salsa, a loaf of French bread and some cheddar cheese…aka dinners for the rest of the week. Instead of drinking, this week, I shall eat my feelings. I shall eat them hedonistically and with abandon. And next week, I shall go back to drinking. Specifically Belgian beer, because I just read a news report that said it helps you lose weight. That’s called a win-win for humanity, in my opinion. God bless Belgia. (I know that’s not a country. It was a joke. It was a beer joke.)
And other than no Sorrys and no dieting, I don’t really make resolutions because I don’t keep them. For 2017, I’m just going to try to keep getting my head screwed on right, not freak out on too many people I love, and try to keep up with laundry better. Maybe go for some long hikes. And my complex updated their gym, and it’s got brand new machines, so maybe I’ll get on them once or twice this year. And I’ll write some crap poetry and try to bang out a half-ass story and I’ll drink a lot of Belgian beer.
Okie dokie! Ready for some more reflection? Today is numbers 8-12.
8-The last good thing I ate was raw cookie dough. I know, on the tube it says DO NOT EAT RAW COOKIE DOUGH. But I’m a rebel. A salmonella whisperer. Come at me, bacteria. (The last time I ate raw cookie dough, I did feel a bit off for a couple of days…but I won.)
9-My current favorite snack. You know, I think this is so kismet that I ran to the store today for junk food with a very “Eating Crap, Don’t Give a Crap” attitude, and look at us. Here we are. Talking about food and what I like best. My favorite snack varies on my mood and hormones – raw cookie dough + ice cream, or cheddar cheese and olives and bread dipped in olive oil. It just depends. Belgian beer. Can I count that as a snack? I think it’s got protein.
10-Little Miss Quinn. She makes me smile a lot. Cats are soothing to watch…asleep or playing. I know some people are like: Cats?! NOOO!!! And I get it. As a tremendous fan of dogs, I totally get it. I’ve got a dog boyfriend up in North Georgia named Fletcher, and we see each other as much as possible because we’re head over heels. So I get it. Cats just aren’t as friendly as dogs. But we lucked out with Quinn…the man she was living with got her all squishy and lovey for us. She prefers the company of people.
11-My favorite accessory…I’m not complete without earrings. I literally feel naked without them in. Sometimes, when I’m halfway to work on one of THOSE mornings, I’ll reach up and feel an earlobe and realize I forgot to put in earrings. And the world is just not quite right after that. I’ve got 3 piercings in each ear, but I’ve only been using one for the last several years. The 3rd ones closed up but I’m starting to use the 2nd ones now, and I think I’m going to get another piercing on one of my upper lobes. I’m also thinking about getting a nose piercing and then, for my 45th birthday, a tattoo. (GUYS!! WAIT UNTIL I SHOW MY MOM ALL THIS!!!) I’m so glad I’m almost 45 and can do these things without permission. (YES, YES…I probably am going through a mid-life crisis, thanksomuch.)
12-What’s making me mad: Well, Trump. Here’s how mad he makes me: I bitched at him on Twitter today because I miscomprehended one of his tweets. He actually agreed with me that Congress shouldn’t dismantle the Ethics Committee that was established in 2008 in response to all the rampant corruption. But because he makes me so mad and he’s so freaking looney tunes (don’t even get me started on his atrocious spelling issues), now I just hear blah blah blah crazy crazy crazy blah blah blah. So he could get on Twitter tomorrow and go: I’m giving Amy in Atlanta $1 million!!! And I’d retweet him and go: F YOU DONALD TRUMP!! YOU CORRUPT LIAR!!!!
This is what happens when you’re all crazy and crap. People stop taking you serious. (Stop looking at me like that. I at least acknowledge I’m crazy and own it.) But I’m not taking back what I said about him on Twitter, because he’ll eventually say or do something crazy and it’ll balance out.
Another thing that’s making me mad: I don’t think I’m mad really, just frustrated. I’m just frustrated, and so I’m going to go finish writing my release note that I will burn and release into the elements, to bring myself what I need and want in 2017. Which I’m still trying to decide what those things are.
But it’s not a diet. Or apologizing. Maybe just beer.