Tuesday, May 19, 2009

And Then Some Days



I swear, some days you're feeling like the luckiest girl in the world and everything brings you joy on some deep level whether it's the rain or the blooming flowers or the fact that you've kept a freaking begonia alive for a year and then some days you wake up and feel like they might as well come get you and put you in a deep well or give you a hearth to scrub endlessly or put you in charge of cleaning out all the kitty litter boxes in the world because really, you ain't good for nothing and the world doesn't need you.
That's me today.
Count my blessings?
Nah. I'm counting the piles of shoes on the dirty porch floor and the magazines spread out all over the house where I got up in the middle of reading one article or another to go do something else completely unnecessary and hell- why read magazines? Not like I'm going to go to a party where I need to discuss the world economy or the dangers of Canadian Geese to air travel. Air travel? What's that? That's for people who go somewhere. Who do things.
I spent three hours yesterday evening- three hours- weeding a bed where I wanted to plant two flats of phlox I'd started from seed. Which I did.
Now what? So what? I'll have phlox taking over the yard. They're basically weeds, people. I weeded so that I could plant WEEDS! For three hours!
Pathetic. I feel pathetic.
I look at my closet, spilling over with clothes I never, ever wear. I think to myself I should really get in there and go through things. Get rid of things. Pack the turtleneck sweaters away until next fall. But here's the thing- when you're as old as me, fall gets here so fast that you've barely needed to shave your legs twice before you're wondering where your sweaters are. Which means Christmas will be here in about two weeks.
Speaking of which, I've let last year's Christmas tree die. The one that I bought because it was six inches tall and that was about all the Christmas spirit I could muster and then some? Yeah. It's dead. Figures, right?
I don't know. Hormones? Bad chemicals? Not enough walking? (There's a sure bet.)
Yesterday Mr. Moon traced a path through the dust on his mirror with a finger. A zig-zaggy trail of shame. "Clean me!" it might as well say. His dresser is filled with enough keys to start up a car-lot full of vehicles, random cryptic post-it notes, a box full of change, give-away pens, peppermint candies and and various listening devices. I'm supposed to make order out of that and clean the dresser beneath it? Polish the mirror? Why? Who wants to look at him or herself anyway? No movie stars here.
There you go. That's my life. Or as it appears today. A dresser full of crap I'm supposed to clean, magazines all over the house I'll never read, cords for this device and that one, shoes to weed in, shoes to walk in, shoes to wear out to the chicken house. Shoes without their mates because the dogs like to drag one at time out into the yard, never to be seen again. A face I'd just as soon not look at anyway. A dead Christmas tree.
Hoo boy.
Yeah, the magnolias are blooming. So the fuck what? The chickens are cute. Who cares? I'm alive. Give it twenty years, I won't be.
And what'll I leave? A bunch of clothes I never wore, random piles of crap I bought at Goodwill, a flashdrive full of books I never finished writing, a few begonia plants I managed to keep alive and a legacy of depression.

All right. That's enough of that. I suppose I should go take a walk in the gray, windy day. Maybe I'll find the rest of the turtle. Maybe the blackberries are getting ripe enough to start picking.

Maybe I'll get my head out of my ass.

We can only hope.

25 comments:

  1. Here's hoping your head comes out cleanly, Ms. Moon.

    Some days just suck.

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  2. I just have to say that pulling those weeds (and planting "more"), reading magazines, the chickens- they all do matter, just as much as anything else in this world. And you know that!

    Mama, you are absolutely beautiful and I love you so so so so so so much!

    I hope your day gets brighter.

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  3. And even if those things Honeyluna said didn't matter (which they do,) you writing this all here on your blog really DOES matter. We all have sucky days, and it's always good to know we're not alone. You are not alone, and we love you Ms. Moon. :)

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  4. JustMe- Thank-you, honey. And there's always shampoo.

    HoneyLuna- Oh girl. What would I do without you and your sisters and brother? I love you and YOU are absolutely beautiful. I just went out to see the chicks and they cheered me up. Suzie tried to eat my toes. She decided, though, that collard greens are better.

    AJ- I know. We all have bad days. Thank-you so much for always being there.

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  5. Even when you're having a sad day, I like reading your words. Especially when you talk about going to search for the rest of the turtle! Ha! Thanks for that laugh. :)

    But...I didn't know Phlox were technically weeds. They're so pretty! Kind of like dandelions. I think they're also an attractive weed, in their various stages of life.

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  6. It could be worse. One woman is out of my office because she has both flu and pneumonia, and another is out for a colonoscopy. So at least you're not being tested for swine flu or waiting around for someone to stick a camera up your butt.

    Seriously, though, I love you, and you'll feel better soon.

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  7. Well, I know not having a camera up my butt makes ME feel better. Take that walk.

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  8. I'd always get feelings like that after a play would end.

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  9. Now Ms Moon. Now now.

    You let Mr Moon clean up his own dresser.

    YOU write 'Clean Me' in the mirror.

    And you know that if you do clear even one corner and bring the stuff to good will, and do a little hoovering, everyhting will feel fresh and good and lifted, including yourself.

    Space Clearing rocks.

    Why don't I do it?

    I just think about doing it in between disparing at al lthe crap.

    Maybe we could house swap and do eachother's?

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  10. Nicol- I don't know. Maybe phlox aren't weeds. They just grow like them. And they are pretty.

    DTG- Yeah. That makes me feel a lot better. But you're right. This will pass. I love you.

    Steph- I took the walk.

    Jon- I was wondering if the play's end had anything to do with it. At first I was sort of hysterical with relief that it was over. Now? Not quite so much.

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  11. Ms. Jo- I don't even own a hoover! Or any other brand of vacuum. But you're right. I will. I will go clean that bedroom and then one bathroom and I'll wash the rugs there and all will seem better. Or at least a little bit.
    As to us house-swapping and cleaning each other's houses- hmmmm. It's a long way to Ireland just to clean a house. I'd much rather we visit each other and ignore the dirt.

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  12. Well that sounds good too. I've just always been better at cleaning other people's houses than my own.

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  13. I love you, Ms. Moon. I really do. Your honesty is priceless. I was sitting here reading this post, grinning. I'm sorry. I really am. I couldn't help it. You just sounded like my inner voice some days.

    Hang in there. Things will swing back up. I promise. As my friend Syd says, one thing at a time.

    I'm starting the process of a divorce, and it helps me to remember that.

    And also, just this morning when I was thinking about my new apartment and my new post-divorce life, I thought I want a life like Ms. Moon's filled with simple pleasures and things I find beautiful. That should make you smile. I want a life like yours, and today you are down on your life. How's that for irony?

    Love,

    SB

    and p.s. I think it's a great face you see in the mirror!

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  14. Hugs to you Ms. Moon. Not every day can, or should, be a winner. It's a good thing tomorrow is a new day.

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  15. Ms. Bastard- I really do love my life. You know that, right? And simple pleasures are really the ones that make us happiest. I think.
    Of course I've never owned a private jet.

    Lora- Too true.

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  16. I am drawn like a magnet to paintings or pictures of people with their hands covering their faces in some manner. I always wonder if it's a transient moment or if they live their lives covered up like that. In your case, I believe it to be transient.

    I will also point out that I planted gobs of Morning Glory this year. Duh.

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  17. Ms. Trouble- I think it is transient. Lord knows I've pasted my face all over this blog before. Some days, though, you just want to hide, even if it's between the spaces of your own fingers.
    I love morning glories. And moon flowers. I haven't planted them for years, but I should.

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  18. I totally planted Moonflower with the Morning Glory! How wonderful! You should plant some but first, you must weed!

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  19. Depression = unexpressed anger.
    If Mr. Moon had drawn a squiggly line on a dresser in MY house, I would have thrown a dust rag to him with a can of Pledge and told him to dust his own damn dresser and organize his own crap!
    Maybe that was it? Anyway, cleaning sucks. So does knowing you have to clean, but not wanting to.
    I hope tomorrow is a better day for you.

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  20. Oh my.

    Perhaps the residual effects of dredging up the past to write about it. I feel like you describe most every time I come home from visiting family... just a thought.

    Also, if you need, Harley and I will help you clean your closets. Or just keep you company while you do. AND you know you are always welcome to unload any of those clothes you never wear, you know where I live! ha!

    Love love love ya!
    xo m

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  21. Ms. Trouble- Weed? Me, weed?
    Okay.

    MOB- No. I must defend my husband. I mean, he's working like twelve hours a day. I don't think he drew that line on the mirror to bring my attention to it. I think he was like, "Whoa! Is this dust or what?" I'm sure the day I go out and start earning money, he'll be glad to clean. He never says a word about the dirt and believe me, he could. And when I clean, he thanks me. As he does when I cook his dinner and make his lunch. He's a good guy and not a macho shit.

    Ms. Fleur- I'm okay. I promise. See you tomorrow!

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  22. Reading your post makes me feel like it is OK to say I am having a bad day. Thank you for that. I always feel like I have to hide the bad times. I need to be happy and joyful and nothing should be able to bring me down, but the truth is I do have bad days, everyone does. I often wonder if all the work I do is for anything. Will it mean anything when I am gone? Will anyone miss me? Will someone feed the horses, water the flowers and care for our home? Will they understand how much work I put into everything and value it the way I do? I don't know.... but it feels good to be able to say I am having a bad day and not feel ashamed. So once again, thank you.

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  23. PS... I just read through your comments on this post and it brought up a good point. Your play ending...
    I am an Artistic Director of a professional theatre and I know that 70% of my actors go into a deep depression after a show ends. It makes complete sense. You put so much of yourself into something and then it ends, it is over and gone and you are left standing there with nothing but memories. At least with other art forms you have a painting or a sculpture or a the music... with theatre you have only memories.

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  24. Oh, my dear Ms Moon. We all have those days, don't we? The difference is that most of us don't have the ability to put those feelings into words like you do.

    Thanks for sharing. Hope you are back to feeling good soon!

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  25. Sarah- We ALL have bad days. And there is humor and humanity in that, too. And you know- I think a lot of that feeling did have to do with the play ending. Bah.

    Lady Lemon- You know me. I call 'em as I see 'em.

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