Whoever said that the first time needs a swift kick in the ass. I hate that phrase. Hate it. If it is used for a break-up, it IS me, not you.
If it wasn’t me, you’d still be here.
Wow, can I be any more fucking depressing?
On the way back from taking the non-boyfriend to the airport, I asked my mom to stop by the local booze store. I called it a “booze store” – it’s really a “wine shoppe.” Wine Shoppe = fancy word for where we get alcohol that makes us feel like we are killing our livers in a bit classier fashion. “Booze Store” makes me want to drink my wine straight from the bottle with the paper sack wrapped around it.
Oh, and I have insomnia. Again. It doesn’t help that one of my furbrats keeps waking me up in the middle of the night. But it’s okay, she’s old, and sick. I’m not sick but I am old, so I cut the little bitch some slack.
That was NOT disrespectful. She is a dog, after all. Plus she takes after her momma.
When I get insomnia, I do ALL of the Things You Aren’t Supposed To Do: Check emails, text other insomniatic people (did I just make up a word?), make up new words, play solitaire on my phone after resetting the statistics because seeing “New best personal moves and time!” makes me feel like a winner, frustrate myself trying to play Candy Crush Saga (what the fuck is the draw to this game after all?), drink hot tea (hello?? caffeine?) and watch infomercials.
Now that I am banned from shopping, I only window shop. But more on that later.
Just last night/early yesterday morning, in and out of sleep, I suddenly became very interested in an infomercial about memory enhancing supplements. The reason I shot straight up out of my non-REM sleep is that I thought I heard the faux physician say “mammary enhancing supplements” and I about peed myself with joy.
No such luck, it was just shit for my brain. Too bad – I was wide awake now.
So I watch for almost an hour (I kept hoping they’d switch the subject to boobs) and towards the end, the faux physician shows what I am assuming is simulated brain activity on this supplement. To me, well, it looked like sperm swimming around but whatever. Supposedly, the supplement causes the neurons or synapses or whatever they are called to “reach out” to one another. Some sort of bonding. Or like match.com for your brain cells.
The next morning, I Googled “memory supplements” but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name. I really should write that shit down.
Now back to the Banned From Shopping thing – I admit, I probably really don’t NEED all those shoes. But I had a breakthrough this past weekend after some Chardonnay and some soul searching…I really AM depressed.
I mean, I kept trying to tell those around me that I was and wondered (both inside my batshit crazy head and out loud) what was the problem? I’m normally so happy and well-adjusted.
Okay, maybe that last statement isn’t altogether honest or completely accurate, because we all know how much I love to bitch, but really? What made the last few months so different from the last few years? I realized I have been keeping myself focused on work and then at night, I’ve just been zoning out and hibernating. I realized I shut myself off to almost everyone except the non-BF, Bunny and Cherry. And I also realized had lost my sense of fun. Maybe it was because I was by myself all the damned time during the week?
~~ Remember the Toilet Paper War? Seriously, you cannot do that shit at home, alone. ~~
This is why I’ve been shopping for shoes I won’t wear anywhere, at least not anytime soon. This is why I have been asking my dogs questions and answering myself on their behalf. This is why I haven’t felt like writing for a while. No man – or woman – is an island unto themselves. People NEED interaction with other people, at least this person does.
And not just interaction with sales clerks while they ring up my purchases.
I came to the conclusion that just because I’ve been home-bound so much these past few months doesn’t mean I cannot interact. That’s up to me to make a change. I’m thinking volunteering or something altruistic like that. And/or actually leaving the house when I get invited out. It would give me some reasons to wear all those shoes.
I hope these realizations mean I will be writing more regularly. I think it helps, I really do. Hell, the insomnia should allow time for that. And not shopping should piss me off more than enough that I have plenty to bitch about, right?
If not, I can just start driving through rush hour traffic for fun and inspiration.