Sometimes I have the rage.

Yesterday it appeared when I realized that we had left behind a bag at the grocery store. It was a bag of the fancy organic shampoos & conditioners & tea tree oil wipes that I love which were HALF-OFF at the regular grocery store because people in Quincy like to wash their hair with chemicals that smell like teenage girl deodorant. I was psyched, cause I was out of conditioner, and the last time I bought shampoo & conditioner I spent more money that I felt was right. It's not that I don't believe in treating myself once in awhile, but I work in a bookstore. I am not made of money. And I spend more money on Kiki's prescription food that I do my own food, so sacrifices must be made, especially with the forthcoming baby.

I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.

HORMONES ARE SO FUN.

He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.

This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.

The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?

It's a little too much.

My emotions are running high, and I am feeling extremely anti-social. I remember these feelings, all too well. It's hard, but I am older so it should be easier, right?

I am trying to get stuff done. After all, the to-do list is never ending, but on these days off, I find myself stuck in this rut. The rut is the couch. Also, Charmed. Or some other mind numbing show that I can completely tune out to. In lieu of turning the set on yesterday, when I needed to stop thinking and moving, I sat on the bed and finally finished Michael Ian Black's new book (okay almost, I think I have half a chapter left) but when I got the chapter titled Nibbles, and read through it, I nearly lost it. I was definitely sobbing. So I put the book away for another day. I can't spend the days not at work sitting at home crying my face off, but at the same time, I can't pretend that I don't have these feelings, I can't pretend that I am not SO FUCKING SAD right now, because I am.

The thing is, I know I am a pain in the ass to deal with when I feel like this. I know because I have been told this by various people throughout my life, but also because I am a self-aware adult. Which is why the best thing I can do for my relationships is to keep to myself as much as possible, at least until everything plays out and we are all able to finally find peace.

And in the meantime, I need to locate my god damn rubber stamps and my black ink pad. Can someone tell me where I put them, because I have no idea.

Thankfully I have Childish Gambino to help get me through:


(that one is not explicit. The song is way better with the swears in it, obviously)



DAMN. I love him.

the past few days

It's been a whirlwind. My niece had a bowling party, we hit some thrifts, and checked out the flea market that I will be selling in next month. It will be my first time peddling wares at a flea and I've got to be honest, I am bit nervous for it! That being said, checking out the space and seeing what is what definitely put my mind at ease. Also knowing that I have the help and support from my fella, who basically has committed himself to helping me with all things vintage, is a great comfort to me.

We didn't spend enough time with the cats. We know it, and they know it. So we are attempting to make up for that.

The big news in the catworld of our home is that we have switched foods. For a long while they were eating Science Diet ZD, for Roo's inflamed bowels and dietary restrictions. When her kidneys starting failing, we switched to the KD line of Science Diet. Both kitties were/are HUGE fans of the dry variety, and for a little while, they were pretty into the wet food. But in the last couple weeks, neither of them expressed much interest in the wet. I found solace in the fact that NEITHER of them liked it, and that it wasn't just Roo getting sicker. I checked in with our beloved vet, Dr. Tubman (we just call him TUB MAN) and he confirmed what I already knew: at this point, the most important thing is that the little sick cat keeps eating, so if we switched her to a food that she liked, that was fine. I did some research, double checked my findings with Tub Man, and now the girls are enjoying a variety of flavors again. After two years on severely limited diets, the same food day in and day out, obviously these cats are PSYCHED. Poor Kiki, putting up with her sister's needs so patiently all this time, has turned into a bully when it comes to the food bowls. She can't get enough, and we, of course, go along with it. Both of my lovely kits have the fattest bellies they've had in quite some time, and really, it's a wonderful feeling.

As sad as I feel sometimes about the whole thing, it's pretty awesome to spoil someone rotten in their golden years, all the while knowing that when it gets too bad, I will get to make the call, and the ending will ultimately be peaceful and painless. It has me thinking about how we, humans in America, deal with the end of life. I hope when it's my time, it will be peaceful and painless and not drag out for much longer than it should.

Okay. Time for dinner. Stayed tuned for pictures this week. I PROMISE.