Seems as though everybody I talk to is exhausted and pissy and otherwise not interested in whatever anybody else has to say right now. We answer the phone like this: “Hello! What the @*^&@ do you want, anyway? Who is this? Who gave you this number?! Did I say I wanted a call from some @*^&@ head salesperson tonight I DO NOT THINK I DID! Who is this? WHO IS THIS AND WHAT DUMB THING ARE YOU TRYING TO SELL ME?! Oh. Uh. Hi, Mom…”
I would hate to be a telemarketer trying to hit up anybody in my friends-n-family group right now, that’s all I’m saying.
I have come to the conclusion that there is a major epidemic of Blah going around. It’s highly contagious, can spread even without direct physical contact (for example, just reading this may be putting you in danger of catching it) (does you no good to click away, OH NO! You have already been exposed!) and once you get it, it is about as hard to get rid of as mono.
It first hit me, hard, a few weeks ago. I’ve given up fighting it. Seriously. I’m done fighting it. Hello, how are you, I’m pissy, tired, bored and not interested in anything you have in mind to make me less so, thanks all the same.
I have blamed late nights and early mornings. When those were in the rearview mirror, I started blaming ‘pre-vacation fretting’, and then ‘we’re on vacation’ and then ‘we just got home from a vacation’. But at this point, I’ve got to just say it like it is: I have a serious, flat gray case of the Blahs.
Gray from head to foot.
Oh. Except my hair. See, after all my ranting and raving about ‘letting it all go’…I found a box of hair dye in my bathroom drawer. And then I debated with myself: throw it out, or use it. Hmm…toss, or use…hmm…
I used it.
Hel-LO! I look like I fell into a vat of cherry Kool-Aid. At this point in the diatribe I would like to say, “…so I’m going to have a really cool racing stripe in a couple months, with cherry-kool-aid red and mouse-brown and gray!”, but I think we all know that I will be heading out in due course to search (in vain) for some mouse-brown dye to lay over the cherry so that my gray can begin to show in peaceful surroundings, at which point I will undoubtedly find a ‘perfectly decent’ color at the dollar store or something and off we’ll go to the races again.
Bet on the chestnut, people. The old gray mare, she ain’t got no stayin’ power.
Yes. Blah. That’s what I’ve got.
Children, because of their inability to understand that behaving like this when Mommy has a case of the Blahs will lead to their deaths in a fiery cloud of pissed-off-mommy-shrieking tender years, catch it faster than most adults.
The Denizens are bored, BUT DON’T WANT TO DO ANYTHING I SUGGEST (hmm, why is this sounding familiar?), and are combining utter lethargy with bouncing-bouncing-bouncing like little maniacs at the most inopportune moments.
Like, say, bedtime. Which is of course when I am even more tired than I was all day and really just want to fall face-first into my bed and dream of the days when I could stay up all night partying and then go to work the next morning fresh as a daisy. Or lie in bed wishing my hips didn’t ache so much, and wondering why it is that other people go to their doctor complaining that they have ‘persistent low back pain’ and get endless prescriptions cheerfully paid for by their prescription plans for OxyContin, while I get “well, why don’t you just go ahead and try taking four (five, six) Motrin every four hours for a while and see how that works”, which on the one hand is nice and easy but on the other hand is not covered by my prescription drug plan. No $20 copay for me, heaven’s no. I’ve got to go ahead and pay the $20 a bottle twice a month.
What doctors are these other people going to? Because I think I’d like a switch.
Not really. As good as spending the rest of my life in a drug-induced haze may sound at this exact moment, well. There are downsides.
I can’t think of any at this exact moment, but I’m pretty sure I will once I have gotten over the Blahs.
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