This Week Isn’t Bringing Me Joy

I’ve had one of those weeks where I wouldn’t mind starting over. Not because something innately bad happened, just because a pile of small annoyances have gone to bat against a small amount of good moments. It’s just that, at this point, the annoyances are winning. In an attempt to not let one “eh” week turn into another I want to take stock for a moment.

How did I go from relaxing on the sofa with my boys on Sunday night, dreaming about how fun and productive this week would be, to standing at my kitchen sink eating a leftover pork chop with my hands, while I yell toward the utility lineman who cut my internet line on accident last week and never bothered to tell anyone? Well, it was a slow process…

Monday was alright, as far as Mondays go. I have to be honest though, I have never met a Monday that I liked. Mondays are like women named “Karen”, but everyone calls them “Kare” or “KareBear”. Karens can be your best friend one minute, then the next they can be telling you how to run your life, because as they mentioned, “If you just follow everything Marie Kondo and I tell you to do, your life will not be so upside down.” Thanks, Karen. I really appreciate it, but I think maybe Mondays just do not bring me joy.

Monday was uneventful, save the short period of time between school pick-up and dinner. I had Morgan and Jackson that afternoon and they were hellbent on turning a glass of water into rum with their Harry Potter wands. Now normally I would make a Jesus joke about this, but I tried it on them and they didn’t appreciate it. 10-year-olds (eye roll). Anyway, at this time I was also trying to feed them dinner so that I could get Morgan to her acting class on time (a favor I was doing for her mom who was stuck with work). Also, for some reason, Duke decided to lose his shit that day. He wouldn’t go outside, then he wouldn’t come inside. He paced around my legs while I was running around trying to make eggplant parm for our dinner, while feeding them a “first dinner”, while taste testing the “rum”. At some point I eyed the actual rum on the top shelf, closed my eyes and tried to Wingardium Leviosa the fucking rum to me. It didn’t work. But I was finally able to convince them that they had in fact done it. That they had turned the water into rum! Then I shot that glass of water like it was Mexican Tequila and I was a bleach blond beauty on spring break in Cancun, trying desperately to forget about my short fling with the RA Anthony, who everyone called “Tony” because even though he was in a band, he still collected Star Wars memorabilia and “OH MY GOD, KAREBEAR DO THIS SHOT WITH ME! FUCK TONY!” Fuck Mondays.

Tuesday was a bit more, shall I say, tedious? I started out fine. In fact, Jerimiah and I started a workout competition on our watches and I was killing it. I had already done my 1.5 mile walk with Duke, who seemed to be getting his shit together again. Then I did my “Seven Minutes in Hell”, which is not at all like “Seven Minutes in Heaven”, but is in fact a seven minute High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) workout. Then I did the stationary bike and lifted some free weights, all while I pretended that I was in a closet with Jake Gyllenhaal and we were awkwardly groping at each other and sliding our slippery lips together trying to avoid each others braces. Then I sat down to write a blogpost about how people who are on welfare are taking money from the government the same way that people who get tax discounts for various reasons are also taking money from the government, we all take from the government at some point either for crazy-ass tax deductions (like when you buy a “work” car for your “work” but not really you just want an expensive ass Suburban cause you are a mom and live in a sub-division and your name is Karen) or because we need temporary assistance or unemployment when we lose a job, etc, etc. IT’S THE SAME THING! Anyway, I never got the chance to write that post because as soon as I sat down at my desk, my neighbor came over and quietly knocked on my door asking if I would call the police for her. Yeah, my Tuesday got weird after that. In fact, I had a friend coming over for coffee, so when she got here she got to meet my neighbor, who was here with her one-year-old using my phone because her asshole, abusive, son-of-a-bitch husband had taken her phone and her tablet and every possible way she had to contact her family in the Philippines. So there is that. Tuesday got better (for me) when I got to spend three hours with my friend, reconnecting, and learning about her life, and dispensing my ill-thought out advice. Have you tried Marie Kondo?

Wednesday was the real shit-kicker. Again, it started out superb. I dropped Jackson off at school then went to a quiet, cute coffee shop near his school where I met two friends for coffee. We brought coloring books, Bob Ross and The Golden Girls (Thanks for the awesome gift, Susie!) and we colored and drank coffee and solved the problems of the world. Or tried to, at least. We talked about immigration, and our school system, we planned a trip to march on Washington (for real, we leave next weekend!) and we discussed domestic violence help for my neighbor, we talked about how hard it must be to live a life unlike the ones we are fortunate enough to have. We complained about complaining and we hugged each other. My soul was restored. Then I got home. I had been gone for five hours. Duke had apparently not been happy with that. He had torn apart most of my record sleeves and he actually ate one record to pieces: Alabama’s Greatest Hits! (KASEY, HELP! He ate the shit out of it!) Then he dug through the shoe bench and got a few pairs out, then he started to eat the wood of the bench. By the time I got there he was sound asleep in his bed, looking angelic. I screamed, “WE ARE CRATING YOU, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE!” Then I spanked him (because although I don’t spank my child, I do spank my dog because you can’t reason with a dog, sue me if you want to) and I sent him outside. I was frustrated, but it wasn’t just him, and I knew that. So eventually I let him back in and pet him and gave him a new toy I had bought him. (Insert another eye roll).

It wasn’t Duke at all, it was all the things that I had talked about that day. It was the fact that I want to help all the people in my life, but I feel helpless. It was that this world is a shit-bag, upside down world right now, and how will my marching even help? It was that I hadn’t had any alone time this week. It was that I was biting off more than I could chew. It was that I don’t know what to do if I don’t know how to help. I sank lower and lower last night, until finally at 8:00 pm I crawled into bed feeling defeated and deflated. I had been so pumped that morning. I had been feeling like we could change the world, but instead I let the world work me over, again. It’s a gross feeling.

So today I woke up and thought, “Today is Thursday and by God it will be different!” And it was, for a few minutes. Here’s the thing. When you get down in this funk, not a lot will pull you out. And normally I know what it is I need to help pull me out, but today I couldn’t tell you. I have no idea what I need, so I guess I will just keep looking and keep trying. Maybe the march will help. Maybe we will get some concrete news about the move soon, maybe things will settle, maybe they won’t. But I won’t stop looking for things that bring me joy. It’s like Marie Kondo says, “ストレージのエキスパートはardersです”. Yeah, I don’t speak Japanese.


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