June 21, 2018

It was one of those days where I decided I was going to do something with my day, and ended up doing all the stuff I hate: dishes and cleaning and tidying up and generally using Clorox.

I woke up late because I was up sick last night. Apparently if you drink a large coke at midnight after not having soda for years and then immediately lay down, you throw up all night. Who knew?!? So since I didn’t sleep due to that, and then my insomnia kicked in and I had to – had to – watch Friends for several hours, I didn’t get out of bed very early. Then I walked my dog, at which point I got yelled at by a stranger, as tends to happen.

Let me tell you what this strange person said to me. He stopped in the middle of traffic – cars honking all around him – to yell at me. I was listening to a podcast so I didn’t notice until the yelling was impossible to ignore. I take out one earbud, and this guy yells at me, “it’s too hot for her feet.” So I look down at my dog, who’s sniffing some other dog’s pee, and look back at him. But before I can tell him to fuck off with his unsolicited opinions, he tells me that “I have to feel the ground with the back of my hand for 10 seconds” and then proceeds to open his car door in the middle of traffic and put his hand down to DEMONSTRATE HOW TO TOUCH THE GROUND WITH A HAND. I was a combination of flabbergasted at the mansplaining and confused as to why it was happening. It was 70 degrees out. My dog was in the shade and very content. AND I KNOW HOW TO TOUCH THE GROUND. So instead of murdering him with my words, which I wanted to, I just said, “yeah, she’s fine. Thanks for your opinions!” and put my headphones back in and kept walking. I could hear him continuing to yell at me over the honking of the cars he was still blocking, but I ignored him. Later, I felt the ground because OBVIOUSLY NOW I HAD TO but just like I thought it barely felt warm and that guy can fuck off.

So I came home from that and cleaned my entire house for what seemed to be the first time ever based on the amount of grime and dirt and Swiffer pads I used. It was an effective way to distract myself, but not an effective way to make myself feel better. I ate Top Ramen for dinner and drank lemonade out of the carton like a frat guy (maybe they wouldn’t drink lemonade specifically, but the image is still accurate).

Maybe tomorrow I won’t cry into my overly salty, undercooked noodles. Oh, did I forget to mention the crying? Hmmm.

Day 11 – Numb but my house is clean.

June 14, 2018

I wrote a story for the first time in a long time today. No, not a story. The beginnings of a musical. That was cathartic. I haven’t felt that good in a very long time. I also wrote some comedy, but it wasn’t funny. Sort of defeats the purpose, I guess. I tried to make it funny, but then I just ended up rambling about nothing – story of my life – and instead just saved the document as it was and went to get a coffee. Like any dumb Millennial, I buy my coffee at $6/cup instead of making it at home.

I’ll tell you a little story about something that happened today. I hate purses, so I carry everything in my hands, pockets, or sometimes a backpack. I don’t have anything to carry my stuff in today, so when I walk my dog, I have my keys, wallet, phone, headphones, leash, water bottle, sandwich – you don’t bring a sandwich with you on a walk? Weird – in my hands. My dog, Emma, decides that she doesn’t want to walk like a normal dog, she wants to sprint ahead, and then stop suddenly and pull both of us backward into a plant to smell pee (her) and trip over the sidewalk (me). But I jump ahead…

So. I have my hands full, literally. We’ve made it out the door and down the steps without a problem. I immediately start thinking how impressive I am for having successfully navigated that. We get a little way down the street without a problem before Emma yanks me backward. I trip trying to catch up with her and run smack into another dog owner, who thinks I’m just being friendly and proceeds to let his dog sniff mine as she tries to pee while telling me that he just “found this dog on Thursday” and he “seems friendly.” This “friendly” dog keeps knocking Emma over with his nose. After the third time, I make up an excuse to leave, but he and his dog just follow me. So now I speed walk away without trying to make it obvious, which I’m sure I do. But Emma takes this moment to stop suddenly and pull me backward again into the bushes. I trip a second time. She looks up at me, MAKING EYE CONTACT, as she squats and starts to poop. You’ll remember that I have my hands full. I wait for her to finish. As soon as she does, she pulls at the leash back toward that guy’s dog while I simultaneously try to get a poop bag out of the container attached to her leash. When she yanks at the leash and because my hands are busy trying to get a bag, I bumble a bunch of my stuff and drop EVERYTHING smack dab into the fresh poop. Phone. Headphones. Keys. Worst of all, sandwich. It’s all poop. Everything is poop.

The guy with the friendly dog helped me separate my stuff from Emma’s stuff and clean it off. I may have been wrong about him…

I grieved the sandwich. Does that count? Baby steps?