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Monday, January 12, 2015

psyche analyzing my rugs

I am observing two big problems lately.


1-The more stringently I work on organizing my house, the more chaotic the disorder becomes during life's interruptions.

2- I attempted to make a manuscript deadline again and endangered lives. Another person nearly died, and two more have been at risk for over a week.


I remember a very long time ago on one of my first jobs at a Pizza Hut, the assistant manager said something to me about my work and I was so pissed pounding ice into the salad bar that ice crystals showered all around me like I was doing a slalom. Not another soul bothered me that day, and they all backed away any time I walked by.

I am at that level of pissiness. It is in my nature to take the cosmos personally, and once again I find myself shaking my fist at the metaphorical heavens. I used to debate these things with a psychologist, giving him glimpses of my unsavory inner workings- wonder if he misses me.


I am borderline OCD. It kind of runs in the family, usually presenting in the form of what other people might politely call hobbies. I tend to spring into manic action when I feel like life is smothering me, tearing curtains down every three to six months, but I'm noticing over the last year it's turning into every two months. Stuffing rugs into the washer is probably my way of not going anorectic with emotional wrath and vengeance. I have very clean rugs.

All my med tests last week came back in great shape, hooray! Which means I made it through the holidays without going into flare up or some other medical crisis for the first time in years. And since I've made it into tax season with my brain still intact, I'm already assessing and restructuring how I might want to handle holidays next year. I've already told Scott the tree is going up on Halloween. We are too busy and too tired to cram all the work into one month, or even a six week sprint. I haven't had things the way I want them in a very, very long time. If I must drag it back out again and jump through all those hoops again, I want a user friendly easy holiday. It's only fair.


If I actually get MY WAY any time over the next five years, the picture in my mind includes a personal assistant setting up travel plans and watching other people do all the work. ALL the work. Because I'm paying them to do ALL THE WORK.

In the meantime, the big flock of birdies hopping around the cold, wet tundra where Scott scattered seed this morning flew up in shocked surprise when I stepped out at the first crack of dawn with a pile of rugs to shake a bit first, and the crows were indignant enough to continue screaming at me long after I went back into the house. At least I had the power to ruffle all the feathers this time. It's usually me in a cold, wet, dark tree feeling offended at the cosmos for another interruption. Ok, a warm, dry, TV set lit couch. And I do realize I have it better than a whole lot of people out there.


But I'm really tired of feeling like a rug. If I must be a rug, I demand the chance to fly and go see the magic in faraway lands.

Now I'm just filling up space because I made it to the other side of that pissy feeling where the rest of the day is like Oh... *work*. And I start the trudge all over again. Because I really really really want this.

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