Puppies And Kittens And Killer Clowns

So I thought I’d post since I am still on a high from watching last night’s Z Nation.  Who knew the zombie apocalypse was a mood booster. But as I’ve always said, be it zombies or a virus or the economy tanking and turning the US into a third world country…There would be no more class wars. It would be survival of the fittest. I like an even playing field.

So I managed to smooth things over with R. After being lectured half a dozen times about how I am “slipping a cog” these days. DUH. How many times do I have to explain the depression and anxiety, ffs. I am well aware I am slipping many cogs. Fucking up the simplest things, forgetting shit ten seconds after it’s said, looking at ringing phones like they are ticking time bombs. I KNOW.

And sure, my stress level would go down significantly were I to write this friendship off. Something in me says not yet. Mainly because my car has no dash lights or heat and I can’t afford a mechanic so…Plus, I feel less shitty about being a smoker when someone else is buying and I don’t have to feel shittier for taking the money out of my kid’s budget for survival. Lame excuses? Maybe. But I don’t do conflict or confrontation well, that stresses me out just as much as the constant demands and lack of empathy. It’s a catch 22. Maybe I should stop griping about it but then, I’d have to fire the mail man or the fire department or every little thing that sets me off kilter and sends me into panic. Life is what it is. Venting is good.

So he was here pretty much every night this week. To visit? Yeah, right. He brings all this shit he wants to work on, parts to find, because ya know, he lives and breathes work and it’s always been who he is, it’s not simply making a living. It was long ago established that I am not superwoman, I cannot keep the pace he or his perfect high functioning family does. I need to shut my brain off at some point. That’s where the mistakes start happening, when I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits. You can’t reason with a workaholic, though. So I suck it up, vent about it, and lather, rinse, repeat.

On the plus side…My kid is doing well at school. I turned the doctor’s ADHD assessment papers to the teacher, told her to take a little time, see if she notices anything off kilter in Spook’s behavior. Even explained the bipolar/ADHD/ single mom angle and how she is suddenly getting aggressive towards the very friends she worships. It worries me. I’m a mom, I worry.

I took her to the book fair and guess what? Mom got a treat for a change.

tardisI lurve my Doctor Who Tardis poster!!!! Of course, R saw it and gave me the money to get him one, too.

We were invited by Mrs. R last night to come over. I didn’t want to go because socializing is exhausting but during an up moment, I agreed and decided not to flake out. I should have. I sensed the tension from the moment I got there. We weren’t there an hour and he and wifey were into it and she told us it was time leave. YES. I don’t do conflict well. It was awkward. All over his daughter’s exorbitant medical bills for her kid’s X Rays and he was ranting about that and his wife, a radiology professor, tried to calm him down and he felt she was emasculating him in front of his kid…

Save the drama for the llamas.

I must admit, I felt bad for Ursula. The eldest daughter who has the master’s in psychology. Her 4 year old has one leg growing faster than the other, so she took her to two different hospitals and the one in town charged triple for the exact same X Rays and even after insurance, she owed almost two grand. She broke down in tears because she worked 65 hours that week and said, “I have to medically neglect my child to feed her! My kids are getting X Rays for Christmas!”

Empathy is my weak spot. No matter how shitty people are to me, I can usually find empathy inside myself. Of course, I saw this coming, because she and hubby have a consistent habit of living above their means, then taking in the foster kids and having seven vehicles. Still…I felt bad for her. And I feel rage towards the healthcare system that gets away with this shit.

He did send me an apology text last night for his behavior. That’s something for him.

Today I wanted to hit the last of the yard sales for the season. It didn’t happen. No zest. I made the list of addresses and all but come morning…I couldn’t be bothered driving all over town with a purse full of coins to spend. That’s depressing but pretty much the norm for the seasonal depression.

So instead we went out for bread, eggs, and cat food. The wild extravagant life.

Now I am gonna vegetate because I am peopled the fuck out. Maybe if I just say fuck it and zone out for awhile, I will get the give a damn to do some housework. Whatevs.

At least today I am not wishing someone would mercy me.

That could change at any time so keep your weapons handy in case I need you.

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17 Responses to “Puppies And Kittens And Killer Clowns”

  1. It seems that you need time for yourself, meditation will help. Go to the Spa, give yourself the VIP treatment.

    • You have no idea how much I wish I could afford a spa day. I’ve never even had a proper mani or pedi because it would involve taking away from my child’s needs.
      As for meditation…Love the idea, but considering the new neighbor’s pit bull barks all day and I have zero quiet place…Probably not gonna happen, especially since the insurance company won’t pay for my Focalin anymore so I have ping pong ball thoughts prohibiting me from thinking straight.
      Appreciate the empathy and the comment, dude.

  2. And people wonder why we don’t want to go out! Too much stress facing their problems as a silent spectator. Relax and chill today!

    • I was feeling good, then a situation arose with one of the neighbor kids throwing rocks at my cats cos she doesn’t like black cats. They were in MY yard, not hurting a thing. Who raises these feral children who think throwing rocks at animals fixes anything?
      Spent the day waiting for some parental outrage because I dared to speak up against their bad behavior. Total mood killer and anxiety raiser.

      • That is pure and simple animal abuse. And in your own yard, I would be pissed. Your npoor kitty! Don’t worry about her, she needs to teach her kids better. Hang in there snuggle with your kitty baby!

  3. what kind of car is that? I wonder if it’s a fuse, that’s pretty simple but I hate that you’re frustrated. I would throw rocks back at the little shitty hellion brats, but they’d be the tiny pebbles from my empty fish tank, so the police wouldn’t arrest me for child abuse. Frankly I admire your restraint, because that wouldn’t ever happen after the first time with me.

  4. I don’t blame you for keeping R as a friend or at least acquaintence…whatever you decide. I know I was all “Cut that asshole loose” on your last post, but, my MIL bugs me out and I don’t cut her loose. I wish that you didn’t have to depend on him and could just be friends with him, but shit is what shit is. I can say that we roll our own smokes. I got a $35 machine at the smoke shop (I just bought a new one, but the old one lasted about 5 years). A bag of tobacco and a carton of tubes runs us about $15. We usually get more then one carton of cigs from one bag of tobacco. I know money is beyond tight, but that might give you an option for not having to depend on R so much. It might help give you options…that’s all. Love you big time!

    • I have a plastic roller and most of the time have him buy me tobacco and tubes. I’ve been rolling my own for 12 years and it does save a fortune. If he’s really annoying me, I make him buy me a pack of real smokes AND rolling supplies. Well, I don’t make him, I just refuse to cooperate til my terms are met. Is that blackmail or extortion?

      Hey, I sent you an email the other night after your last post, didn’t figure you would be checking it much but it might make you smile.

      Love ya!

      On Sun, Oct 9, 2016 at 6:57 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

  5. DId I ever tell you I love you for being a Doctor Who fan too? Well, if not, there it is. I don’t have room for a poster though. Except maybe in the garage. I read a funny quip when it was all the rage, that Feng Shui was an ancient Chinese traditional saying, and translated into English it meant “His shit goes in the garage.” But the problem is, it has to go in there under layers of HER shit. Who puts cars in a garage anyway?

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