Much is made out of the extremes of bipolar. Missing from that spotlight are the “meh” days, the days where you don’t feel much of anything. You’re here, you’re out of bed, you’re shambling along zombie style…
I’m calling it blah-tulism poisoning because everything reeks of BLAH.
So far this week I have allowed housework to snowball even trying to tackle bits and pieces here and there. Keeping up with a cat that leaks poop with every step is a bitch and they don’t make fricking cat diapers (if they do, I can’t find or afford them.) My kid begs me daily not to put him outside, my sister keeps promising she’ll take him to the vent since she gave us a sickly cat…Meanwhile, I’m down with blah-tulism and struggling with the normal banalities of housework plus cleaning up after this cat. I feel for him, I really do. It’s just overwhelming. Spook wants to have another fundraiser for Orchid and with the holidays coming and me not doing social media…I’m not sure anyone would even take notice, let alone donate. Maybe I’ll put up a page just to make her feel better, IDK. After six weeks I figured my sister would have done kept her word about the vet but obviously payments on a 4K tv for her gamer husband is far more important. Meanwhile if I cut back any further on my “luxuries” Spook and I will be using corncobs for toilet paper. (No idea if that is actually a thing, just know my father has always joked about it, to the point of one year giving me corn cobs as an xmas gift. WTF.)
I spent two days of my life working on a Netbook. R’s idea of “throwing me a bone” to earn money. Well, let’s see…It is in French, it’s windows 8, and I speak neither. So after all those hours of my life, everything being pristine, and the problem still existing, I was ready to bang my head against a wall. I need gas in the car, smokes to avoid clawing off my own skin, paper towels to keep cleaning up after Orchid…And all my time wasted for no profit because I couldn’t figure it out. Except I did. Someone had gotten inside of it before bringing it to his shop and the wifi adapter card itself was damaged. Nothing to do but use an external. Goddamn it. That man just sets me up to fail, I swear. One thing about it- it secured my absolute hatred of Windows 8 for life. That’s not easier, it’s convoluted and a pain in the ass.
So he told me to bring it back today, give the french haitian client a call, explain it needs an external wifi, which I happened to have one, they can have it for thirty bucks or let us keep the computer. Problem is, this man speaks french and uh, I don’t. So without the Limitless pill to teach me that region of french in the next hour or so…It’s gonna be like trying to explain table manners to a squid. Grrrr. It’s not racist to be frustrated when you can’t communicate due to language barriers. Personally, I would not go to someone else’s country and expect them to learn my language to accommodate me, so how can others come to the states and demand it of us? Hell, maybe I am a racist, I dunno. The political correctness thing has become one of those things that needs to be killed with fire. It protects pretty much every ethnicity and quirky personality and disability except for those who have weight issues or mental illness. Kill.It.With.Fire.
Another downer was, my kid brought home the ADHD paperwork the teacher filled out…And while she does seem to have focus related issues, I think she falls within the normal range too much for them to deem it a problem. Add to it…she tells the school she is lonely, sad, and feels unloved and unwanted. Which I have relayed to every person in our lives and they agree she’s doing it to either manipulate, other kids make her feel bad, or…that chemical imbalance genetic link. Sighhh. I was so hoping it would just be attention deficit. I don’t want my kid to suffer this blah-tulism poisoning. Though having seen a couple of shows in the last week in which bipolar people were discouraged from having kids to avoid “passing it on”…Fuck you. By the time we’re all subjected to full DNA mapping, no one will be considered fit to procreate due to some genetic anomaly that could be passed on.
She is having a sleepover with my mom tonight. That will give me a break. Provided Mrs R doesn’t want me to come visit. I always feel like I can’t decline (especially after declining once already this week.) But ya know, single mom and all, alone time is rare and precious and it’s not personal. Maybe they have big family plans this weekend, IDK. Of course, what do I have to look forward to for my alone time except all this fucking housework or avoiding all the housework and feeling shitty for it yet being crippled by blah-tulism.
My ever epic father felt compelled to inform me this week that The Donor has a new gf. Guess him and the one he left me for didn’t work out long term. His new one has a kid older than Spook and he takes them out for dinner and stuff. Yay. Cos my deadbeat dad rage issues aren’t inflated enough, tell me more about what a waste of oxygen my kid’s sperm donor is. THEN my idiot dad asks where I am on getting those legal courthouse documents so I can submit the support papers. Hmm, I need about fifty bucks worth of papers, so…You wanna pay for it, go for it, otherwise, get off my dick. Knowing the donor, no sooner than it all goes through, he’ll quit his job or leave the state.
I don’t wanna go be around R. He didn’t even apologize for being so rude to me. He bitched the other day that I never answered his calls and he’d called several times..My phone rang once. Yet I’ve sent him multiple texts and he never answers…Accept the things I cannot change, blah blah blah, but it’s given me a sense of entitlement to be who I truly am. A moody mean spirited sarcastic bitch. Let’s see how long I am tolerated and accepted for who I am.
Blah-tulism.
Guess it could always be worse. I could be staying at Hotel Cortez from American Horror Story. They don’t have wifi.
I shrieked in horror before there was a single murder.
