I had the most bizarre weekend of emotions--up and down and sideways and weird...
For starters, I was sick. Well, I thought I was "sick". Turns out I was just "drained".
On Friday, while completely "drained", I worked a full day, then took my STRESSED OUT daughter to take a written exam for her driver's permit. Because she had taken the test previously and not passed, she was not just STRESSED OUT, she was MEGA STRESSED OUT, and that is the last kind of person you should hang out with, when you're "drained". The child had actually refused to take the test again. Too STRESSFUL! What if she didn't pass, again? So I became Cheerleader Mom, with the "You can do it!" and gobs of reassurance, all of which was met by a big fat HARRUMPHS! by the kid, but, because I'm nice and because I'm convinced that it is my job, I stayed positive.
Up to the last second, when she walked away from me and into the testing area, she was muttering, "I'm gonna fail...I don't even know why you're making me do this..."
She was about 6 feet away by the time I rolled my eyes and said, out loud, but not too loud: "fuck...this..."
But...I'm nice. And probably a bit of a martyr. So my pissed-off-ness lasted all of 30 seconds. What I wanted to do was say "screw it" and walk out the door, get in my car and drive the few blocks to that poultry/crack haven also known as Popeyes Chicken, because if I wasn't able to relax and have chicken soup brought to me while I lounged somewhere, I should at least be able to talk to somebody who would give me something besides just a pissy attitude. I mean...the drive-thru person might be surly, but...they never fail to give up the chicken. Even if they get your order wrong, there's still chicken.
Instead of attending to my chicken-addicted needs, I flopped in a seat in the noisy and full waiting room for what would be the third and final time, curled up a little and began a bit of meditation in which all of the positive, happy energy in the world was being pumped into the testing room, and all the shitty, negative crap was jettisoned. Why? Because I would be damned if I was going to go through this shit again. I was going to MAKE her pass the stupid thing by the sheer force my will.
20 minutes later, she emerged, smiling, declaring it to be the "easiest test, ever". All I could think to say was "You're welcome", but, I figured she'd probably rip my head off if I did, so I said nothing--just smiled and nodded.
That was Friday.
Saturday, I went with friends (a couple, and one extra) to an apple orchard. Couples. Good grief. The entire way to the orchard, one of them (who was not driving) was commenting on the other one's driving, and the driver reacted, but, to her credit, she only reacted about 6 out of the 27 times her ability to drive was being questioned. The rest of the way there and back was spent reminiscing (by the couple and the extra one) about buildings not being there when they were growing up, and many, many stories about previous trips to the orchard, going way back to the days when life was perfect. I am certain that life must have been perfect back in the day, because everything about 'today" was so crappy and so stressful for the couple and the extra one. Driving was stressful, passengering was stressful, more than 6 people in the store at the orchard was stressful. Buying gas for the trip? Also stressful. Hell, even having the extra one along was stressful.
I returned home from this adventure with a gripping headache, and, even though "gripping headache" is a relatively normal state for me, I took a gigantic vicodin and rendered myself unconscious for three hours, at 2 in the afternoon. Sleep, glorious sleep. Delightful, restorative, sleep.
I don't recommend vicodin.
I mean, it's fine on a limited basis, and I have this prescription for pain management, but I honestly couldn't imagine taking this stuff more than once every other month or so, even though brain stem boo-boo's actually hurt. Why? Because for some reason, it seems to leave your emotionally "raw" for about a day afterward. Like, somebody better be cuddling your ass and saying nice things to you, so you don't get weird.
Having no cuddler, by Sunday afternoon, I was reading Facebook status updates of former love interests, thinking, "Oh you poor thing!" and "See! He NEEDS me!"
...and feeling BAD for them!
Meanwhile, grouchy, ungrateful teenager wants driving lessons. That's not stressful, right? We'll just skip the details--I'm sure you may have guessed that I spent the entire time clenching my teeth. This is why I pay someone else to do this job...no more extra lessons from Mom. Mom's a total hater right now.
This morning, I got up and got ready for a job interview. I was in a pissy mood. At 8AM, I was convinced I didn't want to go, didn't want the stupid effing job anyway, and that it wasn't worth the effort. By 9AM I was smiling away, being interviewed, thinking, "Gee, this would be such a great job! I hope I get it!" If this employer has a "Psycho Detector", I might be out of contention. We'll see.
At my current job, I am being surrounded by new "neighbors"--people moving into to my part of the cube farm. People like sales manager-types who pat themselves on the back a lot, as if they are really good at selling stuff. Let me make this perfectly clear, oh not-for-profit-insurance-sales-manager-type-guy....I have 50 people in my Rolodex who, if you had to compete with ANY of them, selling ANYTHING, you would starve to death. And...I was married to two of them. And some of them hate my guts and would still eat your lunch, just for sport. In short...I've met some sales people. You sir, are no sales person. Please shut the fuck up.
Anyway....I will make some effort to sort things out. I think each emotion taken individually could be a post unto itself. We'll see how it comes out in the edit.