All Frazzled Out

Gaaaaaaggghhhhh. There, I said it.

I did not like Bedknobs and Broomsticks, which I watched last night. I'm just saying. Although the scene at the end where all the armor and uniforms come alive and push the invading Germans back into the sea was jingoistic and all "For England!" and so naturally, I loved that part. Otherwise, not so much.

Next. K is either going to have to start taking prescription migraine medicine or move out, or I will move out. So we have some options.

People at my school are stupid. Nothing new there.

Now, you may recall that The Boyfriend is joining us for Christmas Eve dinner. You may or may not recall that I have not prepared a meal involving company for ten years at least, and that was just Wonderful Niece and Good Guy Nephew, so if we're talking real people, then it's at least fifteen. I swear to god, I used to know how to do this. Sadly, old age is not the time to be relearning skills. I'm not stressing out, I'm just having trouble keeping things straight. K and I went shopping before, because apparently it was our afternoon to be stupid, and I couldn't decide between placemats or a tablecloth, and she thought I was crazy for buying cloth napkins. (Keep in mind that this is house where everyone but me uses cloth napkins at every meal.) I had to get a bowl to serve the pasta that wasn't Tupperware (which is what I normally serve in) but I forgot to get a serving spoon. None of my silverware matches, either.

K thinks I am crazy because there's no point in trying to impress him since he's a boy and won't care or notice anyway. Which is probably true. However, it's just a matter of knowing how to serve a proper meal and not knowing, and I know, I really do, I'm just terribly out of the habit. I don't mind being quirky and certainly he's going to have to take us as we are if he wants our daughter, which he seems to, and his parents aren't going to care about how I serve either because according to R, his mother is ready to send out invitations now (which means she's officially crazier than I am.) Oy. I just don't know.

Oh, why was this our day to be stupid? When I got home, I said brightly to K "Let's go to Ikea!" because I needed a serving bowl and stuff, and she was looking for a table for her room, and I figured Ikea wouldn't be crowded (and it wasn't) and it's only a mile from out house and it took a half hour to get there, because DUH it's across the highway from a giant mall and it was about two degrees short of gridlock out there. On the way home, K said "Promise me we won't go out on the highway again until after Thursday" and I stuck out my pinky and we pinky-swore on it.

About twenty minutes ago, I was sitting quietly, scanning for heart attack symptoms, because man, was I having chest pain, and then I remembered that I had eaten this incredible chocolate/caramel cookie that came in a Christmas gift I got today and that IT WAS HEARTBURN. I rarely get heartburn that intensely or that soon after eating the offending food, but the upshot here is that I AM A MORON AND I AM NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK. If I have a heart attack, which I do fully expect to have, it will be in my eighties, because even those who went before me of heart attacks were way older, and didn't even have the benefit of the fistfuls of pills I take every day. Repeat after me, Self: I AM NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK. I AM NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK.

Cripes, I'm not even having a panic attack. I took Tums, it hurts less. What I need to do is make more lists, and then more. Yeah, that's the ticket. I need lists. That will make my kitchen bigger, or get me a dining room built on by Thursday. Yeah, lists.

Yeah.

(I'm thinking of making a new label just for this post: Mental Illness. Hey, it'll probably come up again.)


WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1945
READING: ????? by ?????

Propping My Head Up

I slept strangely the last two nights, waking up every hour or so, and having creepy dreams that would continue when I went back to sleep. I'm pretty wiped out today, and my family is once again stressing me out. I shall recap.

Had a wonderful lunch out on Saturday, which I've already mentioned, but at some point the topic of who's smoking and who's not smoking came up, and somebody mentioned that the Hubs had stopped smoking. I had not mentioned this to my sister for any number of reasons. For one, if she had casually remarked to him (like if he answered the phone or something) "Oh, I hear you stopped smoking" he might freak out because he doesn't like people talking about him. (Or he could have had a sane moment and had a normal conversation with her about it.) Next, I would have had to tell her about his endless coughing fits and the temper outbursts that sometimes follow, and although I'm not embarrassed by this, per se, it meant I would have had to tell her that this stressed me out and made me sick, a little, for a week or so, and as you may recall, that's what I'm trying to avoid. Letting her know when I'm not feeling well because it causes an extreme reaction in her. (For a mini-relapse that I know will pass; I'll tell her when I'm really sick.)

Anyway, now she knows something is up and wants to know why I'm keeping it from her. Oy vey. I don't want to tell her on the phone unless I'm home alone (lest he overhear and be bothered by it) and I'm rarely home alone. She wants to know why I didn't tell her when we had dinner last week or whenever it was. I'm trying to explain to her, sotto voce, that when things are calm I need to keep them calm to keep my stress levels down; I don't want to think about it when I don't have to.

In the meantime, after coughing for literally two and a half hours Friday night, the Hubs did some yard work Saturday and yesterday, and took a nice long walk yesterday. This indicates to me that he is not as interested in killing himself as he said he was a month ago -- he was interested in saying it, not doing it -- and he is making plans for the future (he has tomato and other seedlings growing in the living room window), and he is thinking about his health in a positive way by taking the walk. So the weekend was not bad where he was concerned; he even coughed much, much less Saturday and Sunday. On the other hand,

the kid is sick. She has, I think, an upper respiratory infection on top of allergies, and I know she feels terrible and looks terrible but I'm sorry, she and her father are just freaking babies when they are sick. (And the Hubs was never like this before, only with this not-smoking sickness.) When K is not hiding out up in her room (which she doesn't do enough, as far as I'm concerned) she's sitting or lying somewhere near me moaning "Mommy, I'm sick!" Yes, folks, 24 years old in two weeks.

So this morning I was expecting quiet in the house. The Hubs was taking a day off for god knows what reason; he takes off one day every few years, and K couldn't work because she's sick. So I figured, Ah, no one else up in the morning, I'll have the whole house to myself. I thought I could sleep later, but of course no, I woke up at 5:30, ten minutes before my alarm. And I was rolling along, relaxing a bit on my morning routine, when what should I hear but K's door open. Yes, folks, she was too sick to sleep, and thought it would be a great idea to engage me in conversation, which meant she began to moan "Mommy, I'm sick! I can't breathe!" and so on. Let me tell you what would happen if I tried to engage her in conversation on any given morning. You would see the resultant explosion over New Jersey from every part of the globe. (I shall not yet again post a "Katie Kaboom!" video clip, but you could find it on Youtube and get the general idea.)

Anyway, I had time and she needed medicine, so I took her to the CVS and then dropped her off at home and went on to school, where I was like a zombie all day, but actually got lots and lots of stuff done. And all day I'm thinking "Oy, I'm so glad I'm here and not at home."

So that's the day. Unless there's been some kind of miracle cure, she's not going to class tonight. And it's been pouring all day, so I know he hasn't done any yardwork, although I suspect he stayed home to get some work-work done without the distractions of being in his office.

I think I shall sleep through this afternoon's mandatory faculty meeting.

P.S. Later, at home. I haven't seen the kid yet, but she went to the doctor this morning and got an antibiotic, and is now sleeping. (Of course, if she doesn't get up at a reasonable time, I shall have to go upstairs and make sure she's breathing. Yes, 24 in two weeks; she's not the only freak in the family.) And the Hubs, to show you how erratic he is, when I got home his car was gone but there was a message on the machine to call his cell phone. Seems he went somewhere and locked his keys in the car. I drove over and gave him a spare set, but he was laughing at himself and amused by the whole thing, something that could make anyone angry.

Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind a cigarette myself. Oh, just kidding.


WATCHING THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1714