Have you ever had one of those days where you just can’t stand yourself? I don’t really mean the whole self-loathing jump off a bridge to escape the insanity kind. Just the relatively minor thing where absolutely nothing makes you happy for no explicable reason. Breathing is somehow an insult to your ego. Anyone who says hello or smiles at you has earned your undying hatred for ever and ever, amen. And God forbid anyone wish you a good day. I mean really, who do they think they are?
I am in the middle of one of those days today and I just can’t figure out why. I have reviewed the mental ‘what is your problem this time Lisa’ checklist and come up with nothing. Nada. Nichts. PMS – nope. Not enough/too much sleep – nope again. Hungry – just ate, didn’t help. Chocolate deprivation – had some primo stuff, still bitchy.
So what exactly is bugging me? Well, I am afraid that one of my very bestest friends in the world just might possibly be pissed off at me. Or else she is making a joke and I am way too dense to figure it out. Overly literal person that I am, I miss a lot of things like that. Have I bothered to ask her? Nope – I am busy playing chicken. But is that enough to freak me out to this extent? Hmmm, I don’t think so.
Boyfriend issues? Always. That is status quo, so no dice there. I am a firm believer that the more you love someone, the more issues you have. When the issues stop, THEN I will begin freaking out.
How’s the family? As crazy and in need of serious medication, counseling, and intervention (not necessarily in that order) as ever.
Money? Well, duh. I mean, even guys making billions of dollars every year never seem to have enough. Why should I be content with my few thousands? Nope, I don’t think that is my beef.
What about the job? Well, it is the most excruciatingly boring thing I have ever been paid to do, but it definitely beats the alternative, which I experienced first hand in Technicolor misery last summer. No, the job is definitely not a problem.
Maybe I am going about this all wrong. Perhaps, instead of obsessing about whatever it is that is making me so damn unhappy, I should think happy thoughts instead. That is easy, I can think of many: I am madly in love with my new sofa. I am going to the Kentucky Derby in a few weeks to bet on horses, two things I have never done before in a place I have never been to. Spring is here in all its rainy glory and I am surrounded by happy little plants waking up from their semi-hibernation – that always makes me smile. I got my favorite pair of boots resoled and they are like new – fabulous.
Ok, it is several hours later and I have spent a chunk of time meditating on my happy thoughts and all I feel is boredom. And irritation. Still. Ugh.
So what am I supposed to do with myself? If anyone else was going through this, I would say they needed to just chill out. We all have bad days, cut yourself some slack, blah, blah, BLAH. It isn’t anyone else going through this, it is ME. And I am stuck with me in my head, continually re-pissing myself off in a vicious cycle. Does anyone have an ice pick I can borrow for a homemade lobotomy? I will have to thank you in advance because I suspect that while I will probably be in a better mood afterwards, I will also be a drooling, non-communicative mess. Excuse me while I accidentally slobber on your shoes – it isn’t intentional.
I have no idea what my problem is and I guess it doesn’t matter. In general, I try to hide my high maintenance nature from the world and I think I am having a Mt. St. Helens moment – too much unexpressed drama is building up. I just hope I get home before my top blows off. Heehee. No, not my shirt, although that could be funny I guess.
So what is this whole silly blog posting about? It mainly consists of me complaining about being a dissatisfied whiner. Obviously, a fascinating topic. I am still irritated, but I think I have come to accept that I am just going to be that way today. I just need to finish out my work day, go home, watch some mind-numbing tv, go to bed, and start all over tomorrow.
Why does that plan irritate me so? Who knows. Not me, that’s for sure.
No comments:
Post a Comment