On the Way Down...
Now Playing: Counting Crows, Counting Crows, and MORE Counting Crows
So I've been gone awhile from my regular posting duties to the general public. FUCK YOU.
No, I kid. I love everyone.
I haven't picked up the blogophone in a while because of several reasons, which I will now cover in exhausting detail because it's 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep because there's a huge windstorm brewing outside.
My last entry? Was babbling ass-chowder. I was awake for 27 hours straight, and was cleaning for at least 20 of them. I was a fucking MANIAC. The carpets were cleaned, prompting a no-shoes rule effective THAT VERY SECOND. The slipcovers were pulled down and straightened and tucked, prompting a no-sit rule THAT VERY INSTANT. I scrubbed and bleached and scoured and sprayed and vacuumed and washed and basically FREAKED OUT for 27 hours. I cried hysterically twice. I think I tried to kill the hub-unit once, and snapped at him like a crazed fishwife CONSTANTLY. The house had to be PERFECT when my mom walked in. At least for the first twenty minutes or so, then I was probably going to take a shit in the middle of the living room floor and smear it on the walls once she saw what a good non-employed at-home-all-day housewife I was. But I digress. By the time I got around to posting that last entry, I was delirious and shaking from lack of sleep, and still yet the house was not clean. A two-bedroom apartment, and I was freaking out so bad the hub-unit thought he was going to have to institutionalize me before my mom even showed up. Finally? House got clean to my insane requirements.
Then Mom comes. I love my mom, I really do, but WTF happened to her over the last year I cannot comprehend in the SLIGHTEST. We're in Seattle, right? Picking up the mom. So we figure we can go to Pike Place Market and walk around for a while, since her plane landed around 11:30 am and we'd been up since six anyway, so why not just exhaust ourselves completely?
My mother talks to everyone. EVERYONE. She even flirts with the 26 year-old hottie at the fish stall.
As everyone on the planet EXCEPT my mother seems to know, I am not a people person. If I am in a group of people and there are TWO people I don't know, I develop instant hermit-crabbyness and must sit in the corner like a goober until it's time to go. I may be an excellent, nay, a FANTASTIC storyteller, but talking to strangers in the fish market? Not a fucking CHANCE. My mom states clearly and lucidly to me and the hub-unit that she can "talk to anyone". GOODY. And she shows off this amazing people-person talent every chance she gets, effectively making me the most awkward-feeling and uncomfortable person on the planet. Good start so far. We go home and stay up until one AM, when my mother tells me that she can no longer sleep without taking at least two Tylenol PMs. Great, now she's a freaking addict.
EVERY DAY she must go somewhere. She must walk. She must MOVE, which is a new thing since last year's visit where she was content sitting in a chair and reading. We were out EVERY DAY, doing something. Even if it was just going to the grocery store and Wal-Mart, we were out for HOURS.
I have no problems with road trips. The hub-unit and I make it a point every two weeks to go somewhere and experience the world, blah blah blah. But every day? We are fairly active, but we're not THAT active.
And there's my broken-ass self. I can walk for maybe two hours before my fucked up knees and back and hips start to ache just enough for me to start breathing funny and get somewhat crabby. Only somewhat, it's not like I turn into superbitch or anything. So about two hours into our four-hour walking tours of EVERYWHERE, I start to lag behind a wee bit. The hub-unit notices, but doesn't say anything until that night in bed, which is damn near every night. My mother, bless her heart, attributes my fucked-upedness to being fat, despite my protestations that I've had bad legs and knees and hips since grade school. Nope, it's cuz I'm the size of a fucking BARN. And that's why she won't buy me anything with horizontal stripes. Moving on.
Thanksgiving went extremely well, despite the fact that two days before we found out that somehow all of our money disappeared and we were BROKE with no money to buy food or anything else for that matter with at least a week left before payday. We had to get another loan, which my mom wouldn't let me forget the rest of her trip despite the fact that it only added ten dollars more a month to the payments of our current loan, which we could easily cover because for the most part we are FINANCIALLY ASTUTE.
And she does that crazy mom thing where she complains but it doesn't sound like complaining it sounds more like a statement of fact. Kind of like well DUH Queenie of COURSE she hates her job and she doesn't have a boyfriend and she had to sell the house and she has to work for the rest of her life until she DIES because no one will ever love her again and she'll have to rent for the rest of her life because everything is SO HARD and her life is OVER.
These thinly-veiled emotional owies sent me into a tailspin of bedtime sobbings. ALL I WANTED, goddammit, was for her to come visit and have a good time and a family Thanksgiving, and even then there's always something. I blamed myself a LOT.
Every night, there was a lot of whispered talkings between me and the hub-unit, and add that to the fact that we were out EVERY DAY and exhausted, things started turning sour for us. We fought bunches those last few days, ripping into each other because of lack of sleep and my nocturnal weepies that were NOT WERE NOT my fault.
So, in essence, after mom left we needed a vacation from our vacation. I've been keeping up with everyone else's postings, but I myself have not written so much as a comment. As it stands now, I can't sleep at night so I wake the unit up to go to work and then sleep all day. NOT conducive to baking Christmas cookies, I'll tell you that much.
But other than the painful insomnia, I'm okay now. Things are just now getting back to normal, and I never realized how much I appreciated my ridiculously boring life until now.
Rattled Out By Queenie
at 11:57 PM
Updated: Wednesday, 8 December 2004 12:01 AM