In serious menstrual pain today, in addition to my hormones clouding my thoughts and convincing me I am pretty much a wretched waste of space. I can’t begin to cover how not “yayness” this mental/physical space is. I have zero desire to do anything but binge watch The Closer. I have a ton of things I could and should be doing but…Nope. It’s not happening today. Fuck it.
It rained yesterday afternoon so I was not subjected to the spawn’s devil friends. That was a nice respite, especially since I am so sound sensitive and easy to annoy. But then came time for her school open house and wow, I didn’t want to go. Because it’s not like it used to be, where you go, see the class room, eat a cookie, and you’re done.
Nope. Thanks to this new “7 Habits of Leaders” regime the school is doing, we were all subjected to the tiny overly warm gym and thirty minutes of them repeating all the habits. Again and again and again. I was uncomfortable, bored, annoyed, and wanted it over with. I am too far gone for any of those habits to do me a damned bit of good because be it my bipolar brain or stupid hormones, my good intentions would be vetoed by junk DNA.
The principal was all yayness and how successful this program has been and kids aren’t showing up late anymore. Um, yeah, you tell us we have to have them there by 7:45 a.m. or our kid will face consequences. That’s not the kid showing up because this leadership thing is enthralling. That’s adults trying to be compliant to avoid truancy issues. FFS.
To be fair, a week from now, I may see it differently as my hormones have me hating everything. Doubtful, as I don’t lead or follow and have zero interest in that sort of thing, but to be fair…I am not “quite right” atm.
The classroom part was quick and easy.
Spook pulled me aside in the media room where they had punch and cookies and asked me to talk to this aide, Mrs. L, who didn’t believe her when she said I put Lemmy in the car and took the cat for a ride.
I straightened Mrs. L out for her. Because Morgue does kooky shit like take cats for rides in the car minus a pet taxi.
Once we were home, I finally was able to eat some food that didn’t make my stomach worse. R texted to ask why I was such an asshole to him the other night. I fell on my sword cos I know I get annoying during shark week stuff. Truth is, I wanted to text back, “you’ve taught me so well, I have surpassed the master”. But no, I don’t want to risk losing Mrs. R as a friend by alienating him. Idget. Then he asked me to order a part. I asked for a part number. He told me to come to the shop today and get the board itself.
I don’t get paid for this shit I do for him. I have one bad night in a year and piss him off and there’s only judgment.
Yeah, this is because I like Mrs. R so much. He’s just an annoyance.
I took 2 melatonin and was in bed before 9 p.m. Drained. Figured a good night’s sleep would recharge.
Nope. Today, I am in pain right to my spine. And it’s the season premiere of Z Nation and I’m too depressed to even give a damn cos I won’t enjoy it. Bloody hell.
I was going to take away a sleepover at Grandma’s for Spook cos she hit me the other day but now…Screw consistent parenting, I need a break. Even if it’s just laying in bed all day chain smoking or whatever. Yeah, I get a break when she is in school. And it’s all undone by all the company she has every single day. So…yeah, an evening off duty…I think I need that.
I hate feeling this way. With depression, I know it can lift and ebb and flow. With menstrual dysphoria, I know it’s around for a week at least and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
Having been such a bummer….I found this joke in an email and thought I’d share it, cos well, it made my grumpy butt tee hee a little.
A man received the following text from his neighbor: I am so sorry Bob. I’ve been riddled with guilt and I have to confess. I have been tapping your wife, day and night when you’re not around. In fact, probably more than you. I’m not getting any at home, but that’s no excuse. I can no longer live with the guilt and I hope you will accept my sincerest apology with my promise that it won’t happen again.
The man, anguished and betrayed, went into his bedroom, grabbed his gun, and shot his wife.
A few moments later, a second text came in: Damn autocorrect. I meant “WIFI”, not “wife”.
