Monday, September 12, 2011

I need to be committed. And not in the way you think.

I love the day after a dinner party. Most people don't, right? I mean, the friends are gone, the house still smells like garlic, and you have a mountain of dishes waiting for you when you stumble downstairs for coffee.


This morning, I woke up and literally pumped my fists in the air in my dramatic display of glee. I had dishes to do! Loads and loads of dishes in my sink! My house was trashed! Wine bottles empty on the dinner table, smeared glasses all over the place! THIS IS THE BEST MORNING EVER!

I stumbled sideways across the room to make coffee in the kitchen that is 1 and a half feet from my bed. (I'm really playing up the whole "I don't have a downstairs" bit.) I grinned like a mad woman at all of the filth my little studio contained. And then I got to cleaning.

It TOOK A WHOLE HOUR! Mopping, vacuuming, dish washing, scraping something weird and hot pink off of the coffee was pretty fantastic. After, I skipped outside to get rid of my garbage, and then took a shower to really stretch the morning out. I guess you can figure out why I love messy studios. It gives me something to do! It's my warped version of a puzzle. I have to put the pieces all back together again, and my brain is not on my hunky husband a gazillion miles away. It gives me a sense of purpose. And I realize I just set women back 50 years by saying that, but whatever. It makes me feel in control of things, when I am definitely not in control most of the time. I can't control school, I can't control getting fondled in broad daylight by the crazies on Shattuck. I can't control the fact that "Mad Men" is ruining my life because I can't stop watching it, and I can't control the situation that places me so far away from the one I love.


I should probably go buy some actual puzzles today.

To add to my obvious mental instability, I've taken to making really exaggerated motions when I am alone. Like, the fist pumping nonsense this morning. Or, I'll randomly do a jig. Or slap my hands dramatically to my face if I am upset about something. I also talk out loud to myself, as if becoming the awful roommate I don't have. While making coffee I said snarkily: "Do you really think you need that extra spoon of sugar in your coffee, Melissa? I mean, are you trying to become more of a fat ass?" Or in the shower I'll gently hit my head against the wall and yell out: "WHY DID YOU SING AT THE DINNER PARTY LAST NIGHT?! YOU EVEN CLOSED YOUR EYES!" Stuff like that. I knew It was getting a little out of hand when my elderly neighbor, (who by the way watches soaps all day on VOLUME OBNOXIOUS) stopped me in the hallway and asked me if me and MY ROOMMATE could be a little quieter in the morning.

I don't have a roommate. Actually, yes I do. Her name is CRAZY.

So now, to add to my already growing lists of reasons I should be committed, I have to keep up the ruse of having a roommate whenever I am around this woman, because I am just too ashamed to have her find out that the only person who lives with me is a fish that I do talk to loudly and constantly.

Off to buy those puzzles.

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