“Stupid bloody Tuesday, man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long…”
I am the eggman! I am the eggman!
Motherfucker, even the YouTube is down! Like I said, stupid bloody Tuesday.
(If you don’t know the song, I don’t want to know. Just… Don’t.)
I’m no walrus. I’m like… prolly some woodland creature. Somethin small and busy and brown. Something burrow-y and … Is there a small woodland creature that behaves as though it’s deranged in order to scare off its prey? Somethin heavily dependent on nail files, Band-Aids, and calendars? I’m that.
Anyway, yeah, I know you’ll probably read this on Wednesday but I’m writing it on the stupid bloody Tuesday.
Do you ever consider your reactions to things are a result of previous experiences? I do. If you find yourself more angry or more sad or more –> *anxious* <— that is me — than everyone else involved, instead of screaming, “WHY IS NO ONE ELSE FREAKING OUT?!?” it’s best to internally inquire why you are freaking out. We carry a lot of old crap, not all of which serves us.
I am freaking out. Not outwardly, but inside. I am experiencing the brain tingles and the skin zapping and the tight band around my head and and and the panicking when I leave home and the panicking when I leave work, and moments of compulsion over proofreading and key-checking — certain I have forgotten something dire.
This morning, my kids. The Mister took them in early to do the things. I stood at the door like, keys, phone, coffee… no, bitch, you did not leave the iron on. you ain’t even ironed.
My dog tilted her head and I tilted back.
As I passed the school, I realized MY KIDS! that feeling of something missing is my kids. who are at school. it is okay. you are okay. i’m okay.
It’s a familiar feeling, the freaking out, and although I am a long-time member, it’s not a fan club.
I did my best to have a good day. I made myself a nice PBJ for lunch. I have abandoned my black uniform for Tuesdays. Some time ago I toned it down, and have moved into navy. On Tuesdays we wear navy. Mentor says she knows it’s Tuesday when I wear the blues. Heh.
Still, I barely made it.
While I was working late and wondering how many
days hours I would need to work over to feel like I am accomplishing enough to make up for the absent parties, The Mister asked me if I was also still at work, and whether I was also sad and pathetic?
Then we exchanged sad selfies
and worked s’more.
I’m going to go make my bed now. Sheets fresh from the dryer. I WASN’T UP TO IT ON SUNDAY, OKAY? That’s what I’m sayin, I’m not myself!
Shh. i’m okay.
Imma make this Tuesday all warm and soft and snugly until it’s disappeared into Wednesday.