Rocket's poetry slam
Not to be a pessimist - okay, I have to admit that this is a pessimistic perspective - but my first morning alone wasn't nearly as great as I imagined. Somehow I knew I was building it up in my head to an unreachable level of greatness and sure enough, it failed to be great. First, I had to drive carpool to help out my co-carpooling friend and second, I have the early stages of ebola. It shows how far we've come as a epidemically freaked out country when I joke about having ebola and no one remembers what ebola means. If I'd say swine flu, masks would be slapped on and I'd be hosed down in Purell faster than I could blink (mostly because I'm so tired that blinking requires great effort and time).
I spent the first hour of my time alone fighting the urge to do something. I watched a show I'd recorded while forcing myself to not get up and finish the project for Rocket's school, answer email, or gather receipts. I'm too type-A for my own good. For the record, when I was younger, I thought type-A was among the highest compliments; now I just want to watch Models of the Runway for 20 minutes without compulsively multi-tasking. It's not healthy and I know it.
When I later told Kevin about this struggle against doing something productive during that first hour, he said "Good for you...for resisting the urge to do something." This may read as supportive, but it was said sardonically. Another thing I resisted was the urge to hang up on him.
During the second hour, my cold or whatever it is that includes a cough that sounds like a ball bearing bouncing around in a metal box, got worse and suddenly I wanted to rest. I forced myself to flip through Via, AAA's monthly magazine because I had promised myself I'd read magazines during my free time and Via requires the least brain power to get through. I had to look at a magazine or else I feared I'd fall asleep and no alarm could wake me up in time to pick up Rocket.
So that was day one. While not ideal, it was still awesome in its own way.
A few things I learned:
* I talk to myself.
* It's depressing when I couldn't figure out what was wrong with the "before" clothes on What Not to Wear.
* A Febreze commercial was one of the most delusional I've ever seen. A mom walks into her teenage son's room holding a bottle of Febreze. The room is perfectly clean, like this-house-is-on-the-market clean. My room wasn't that clean even after I went away to college. Anyway, the mom claims her son's room smells and since he has friends coming over, she needs to Febreze it. Her son is briefly skeptical, but then gets into it, totally into it in a way that conveys he must be stoned and trying his best to appear normal in front of his mom. Seriously, lady, crack a window. A room that clean cannot smell that bad unless something hidden under the bed or in the closet is decomposing and no amount of Febreze can mask that.
