I'm in a bad mood. Do you hear me? I want to make this perfectly clear.
Bad. Bad mood.
I went to town. I picked up a prescription, I went to the library. The library always makes me feel better and for a few minutes it did exactly that today. As long as there are libraries, there is some hope for humanity.
Then I went and ate lunch by myself, reading from a book I'd checked out from the aforementioned library. Willie Nelson's autobiography.
I'm sorry. Keith Richard's autobiography has ruined me for musician memoirs. Either Keith is really the most interesting guy in the world and truly has a way with story-telling or else his co-writer is the best co-writer in the business. Or all of those things.
But I'll keep on with Willie. God knows I love him.
But back to lunch- I am not even going to tell you what I ate but I will confess that it probably had enough calories to sustain life (even my big fat life) for at least four or five days. Plus, while I was eating, I was listening to a woman talk on the phone about her fourteen year old daughter who, if she doesn't straighten up and CLEAN THAT HOUSE is going to be beaten to within an inch of her life.
Somehow, I don't think that this was meant literally but it was still fucking disturbing.
God People! You are not in the cone of silence!
Then I went to Big Lots because fuck- why not? It was right there. And maybe I could find a few little gifties for my babies, right?
This is where it all really went south.
I can't Christmas shop. I can't do it. And here's the horrible thing- I used to BITCH AND MOAN about the lousy Christmas presents my mother gave me. Bowl covers, for instance. Every year.
And here I am- even worse than she is! At least she considered the fact that I do indeed have a lot of leftovers and that bowl covers can come in handy.
I just feel awful. Terrible. I mean, I've gotten the boys their presents (and I'm making Lily wrap them) and we'll give the kids their Christmas cash but a mother should get some meaningful gifts for her children. They should! I should! What in hell is wrong with me?
It's like I have some bizarre shopping phobia which gets worse every day of my life.
I'm paralyzed. And, at the moment, weeping. This would be funny if it weren't literally true.
Well, maybe it is still funny. But not to me. I don't mind if you laugh though. I really don't.
I talked to my bagger at Publix who is even older than I am and he always calls me Grandma and I don't mind because I call him Grandpa and he told me that his wife buys gifts for all of their kids, their kids-in-law, their grandkids, grandkids-in-law, great-grandkids, nieces, nephews, grand nieces and nephews and she wraps everything and ships them off herself and that sort of made me want to die right there in the Publix with my chicken and cans of stuff and jar of olives and whatever-the-fuck it was I bought.
Great. Now our electricity is out. Why? It's not even raining. Somehow, it's probably my fault. All of Lloyd is out of power because I'm running my dryer. Or something.
Oh. This is just a fine day.
I guess I'll go ahead and post this while the back-up charger is still juiced for the router.
Okay. The power just came back on. Too bad. Now I have no excuse to just go to bed.
Nonetheless, I should really just stop talking now.