Today’s Flavor: Bart Simpson

Title? There’s this snowcone stand open during the summer here and when I drove by, that’s what the sign said. Bart Simpson is flavor of the day. I hope it’s in humor and not some person named Bart Simpson. Joke. But then again, I do think that little of mankind, especially the jackholes locally.

Not a bad weekend, nor good. Just stressful from the kids but the sad thing is, they bring life to the place and make me feel less desolate. How’s that for a catch 22? You make me a nervous wreck but it makes me less depressed. Queen of dysfunction here.

My kid is running a fever and lethargic. She didn’t want to play with the kids, didn’t want candy. That’s knocking on death’s door for my ADHD bunny. I am concerned. I have her fever reducer and she is sleeping beside me, although this kid is not fun to share bed space with. I think she may grow up to be a contortionist.

Tomorrow.

I am dreading it. He is taking his daughter to the airport so he will be gone a significant portion of the day and I am on board to watch the shop. That doesn’t bother me too much, done it lots of times. But with my kid sick, I am feeling quite hesitant to leave her. Part of me is hoping Kenny will just be there hanging out and he can mind the shop even if I need the brownie points for car repair and pull ups and such. My kid comes first for me, right or wrong.

PLUS R told me he wants me to do an outcall, some rich guy wants a printer network set up, parallel running.

First…I don’t know fuck all about setting up parallel printers.

Second…I’ve made it abundantly clear going to unfamiliar places makes me panic.

Third…I am now exhausted but scumbag brain won’t slow down BECAUSE R planted this anxiety provoking bullshit in my head earlier tonight. He asked me to do two outcalls, one of them an hour away in my bete noir, aka that tiny hick place I spent 7 hellish years. I absolutely refused to do that one. I don’t go back to that place. Not even to visit my grandma in the nursing home. My psyche might be strong enough to handle the demons of the past. The tolerance for panic, however, does not equal.

I tried to explain the panic/lack of know how to him. He said, “This guy is loaded, he might give you some cash off the books.”

Um, yeah, well, money has solved my panic problem, that’s why I don’t take Xanax.

WAIT, I DO take Xanax.

Dumbass.

People who don’t understand panic piss me off. People who don’t even try to understand piss me off more.

But I am not so much angry as just anxious and filled with dread. I don’t want to do it. Yeah, I need money, but last time I did a “favor” of this nature per R’s “You can do it!” pep squad, it took me 3 days to set up a wifi network and gave me stomach aches and panic attacks from hell. So while money is appealing, the panic is NOT. Besides which, the guy would just write the check to the business anyway, so what’s in it for me? Brownie points are not worth that level of freak out. Especially not considering R lacks a spine to do anything about me not bending to his will, he basically pays everyone to hang out with him.

Yeah, it’s sad, that he loathes being alone so bad that even when I am not there, he calls up someone and buys them sm0kes and lunch and whatever else if they sit there and keep him company. That is pathetic to me. I try to understand, but being a loner, I simply can’t quite wrap my brain around it.

So this being a non job and all, with no pay or real benefits, if I tell him no, I am not doing this outcall, he will be pissy and pull the “disappointed dad” act which drives me nuts…But there won’t be any backlash. So I will play it by ear. Who knows, I could go manic and have a brave day. Stranger things have happened.

I had a realization yesterday: I used to LOVE showers. It was more than just getting clean, it was enjoyable, refreshing, revitalizing. Now it has become one more chore I have to force myself to do, even if every time after I feel 200% better. And I wonder if I am not punishing myself in some unconscious way by dreading a shower instead of enjoying it. Like I am not worthy of even that small luxury and pleasure.

It’s a thought I should probably discuss with the new counselor.

Think that’s next week. Not sure. What day is it? I get lost.

Even while sick, Spook’s little friends came over. The girl was on my last nerve but her brother just sat with me and my kid, watching The Simpsons on line. Say what you will about ADHD overdiagnosis, but some kids, the difference between medicated and not is clear as day. Damiana is going off her meds and even worse than ever. Her brother, as long as he takes his meds, is a fun, well behaved polite kid. Spook didn’t want me to send them home…so I didn’t. Remember what I wrote earlier about the kids making the place feel less lonely?

I am becoming that sad person who fills the house with kids to avoid her own loneliness. But hey, my kid’s going to have friends anyway, why shouldn’t I get something out of it too? As long as I don’t take to essentially paying people to keep me from being lonely. That’s kind of like emotional prostitution. Don’t want to be alone? Hire a companion to listen to you prattle, watch Youtube videos with you, and keep you from realizing what a shallow husk of a human being you are.

Ugh. Never ever will I be that bad.

Now…I left a microwave cheesburger in the micro, I need to go get it. Funny how you can be hungry then get distracted and forget to eat. Maybe after I eat I will work my way toward a shower.

I miss my insomnia, as insane as it sounds.

Before my kid, I had all the time in the world, I didn’t need extra hours in the day yet I could take enough pills to tranquilize a horse and not go down for the count at times.

Since I had her, I need every hour and instead, my brain tells me I don’t have the energy and I must sleep  or 7 hours a night instead of getting joy out of doing the little things I like, reading and such.

Perhaps my karma for waiting til I was nearly 40 to have a spawn.

I may drive by that snowcone stand tomorrow just to see what the flavor is. I like quirky things like that.

Oh, look a bunny.

I have no idea where my kid gets her distracted ditzy side.

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