This Time the Fucker Brought Luggage

Claude, I mean.

He really blindsided me this time. I didn’t think he was coming. I pulled out the Xanax and felt so fabulous that I thought it was like a shield or some shit – yesterday I felt great.  Things were so-so but life seemed…livable. Someone pissed me off, I had to straighten her out, no biggie. Minor nuisances. Minor.  Good things happened.  Even the dentist visit, at which I learned that I have a cavity that might really be a root canal (they won’t know til they dig in there, ugh) – that didn’t faze me.  It went right along with my get-my-shit-together program.  If a root canal is what I need then let’s get this party started and DO THIS, people. Yeah!

That was my attitude yesterday.

Today I feel…hopeless. Helpless. Fragile. Nothing is going right.  The get-together I was supposed to be going to later is now probably not going to happen – well, it will happen, I just might not be present – and I just generally feel like dog poop rubbed off the bottom of the universe”s shoe.

I have to buck up, because in 45 minutes I have to begin the drive to the homeschool camp outing hosted by the woman who got on my nerves yesterday with her rant about being unappreciated.  Annoying because it was directed at me, because she asked me, LONG after I’d signed up for the camp, to help out afterwards to clean up. And I said I couldn’t because the minute that shit is done I have to throw the kids BACK in the car and hightail it back to our neck of the woods to get Punksin to her ballet class on time.  And she gets all passive-aggressive about it, they put SO much into the camp and they need ALL the help and it would just be nice if people appreciated HER AND HER FAMILY.

I thought the $150 fee I paid to participate was the “appreciation.” Mind you I have no problem if cleaning up afterwards is also required or desired.  But then why the fuck didn’t you say so from the get-go? All the original email does is talk about how much FUN it’s going to be! And who is going to BE there entertaining us! Whee.  So I sent my money and prepared for fun.  Then 2 weeks ago I get blindsided with an email about how everyone HAS to pick a day to clean up afterwards and it’s MY fault that I can’t do it because the camp happens to be on the same day as Punksin’s ballet class? If she’d TOLD me that ahead of time, I could have explained it to her to find an alternative or just realized, hey, we can’t do this.

So yesterday she fucking annoyed me.  Today, I am in a vile (don’t you like how vile and evil have the same letter?) mood, thanks to Claude, who is currently sitting on my couch with his feet up, munching popcorn and watching cartoons.  You’d think the bastard could at least do Punksin’s hair while he’s out there.

I felt the evilness descending and thought I’d fend it off with a Xanax.  That felt nice yesterday. Today, it seems like a goddamn placebo. So I need to call the doctor and ask for the next step up.  I don’t like the thought of taking anything regularly to deal with this, but the thought of how I feel and behave and basically become non-functional when Claude arrives is worse.   I cannot go through another fall and winter like the last one.  Lord, no. (Not to mention I asked my twitter peeps for drug recommendations and got NOT A ONE, nor an are you okay, crazy bitch? And then when I answered someone ELSE’s drug question, I got no shoutout! So I go to her twitter stream, and the shit did not even show up! So she’s all like, thank you to all these other people, and my response is out in cybertwatspace. Fuck twitter today, that’s for sure. I’m feeling terribly unloved.)

Yeah, Claude’s back.  Let me call the doctor before I have to get up out of here.  (sigh)

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