I must be GORGEOUS by now.I was just on the phone with my Mom, describing the home-made marinara sauce I had simmering in a crock pot all day, ready to freeze for quick dinners in the future. I had assembled said sauce after a 6am run through Pittsburgh with Brett, had a cup of coffee, and was dicing tomatoes while humming along to Jason Mraz by 7:30am. By 8am the sauce was simmering, I was out doing errands, and came home to shower, test out a new dish washing detergent, and paint my nails. I made a healthy lunch, (lettuce wraps and grapes,) logged on to watch a lecture for my online class, drank a kombucha drink and did some yoga.
I was chatting with my Mom as I unloaded the dishwasher, and I stopped her mid-sentence to curse (not so softly) under my breath.
It went a little something like this:
Me: "ShitFuckDangNabbit." (I add childish curse words to real ones sometimes. I sound like Elmer Fudd. I don't get why I do it, but- moving on...)
Mom: "What?! Are you ok?"
Me: "NO. I am so annoyed! There is still a milky film on our nice glasses, and I specifically bought a detergent that specifically claims to combat that! Oh, this is just great. These are nice glasses! An investment! What am I supposed to do?!"
Mom: "Um. Maybe not put them in the dishwasher?"
Mom: (flustered.) "I don't know! I'm sorry! Your step-dad will know, let me go ask him."
Me: "No, Mom...stop. Don't...I mean, do you hear me? Do you hear what I am complaining about? Dishes. I am 28 years old and I am having a mental breakdown and AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION about...dish detergent. DISH. DETERGENT."
Mom: (giggles nervously)
Me: "I need to go. I need to go get a tattoo or something. Call you later."
Now, there is nothing wrong with my day of playing housewife at all. In fact, I got more done today for my body and my family than I ever do. And I do take a certain amount of pride in that. What worried me is that I definitely lost myself in the details of the day- the mundane ones- and I gave them a hefty amount of importance that they didn't really deserve. So what if the dish detergent didn't work? They are glasses. Replaceable. The fact that I spent more time worrying about that than I did...say, practicing guitar, or writing a letter, or doing something for someone else or enjoying my conversation with my Mom...that worries me. I refuse to be someone that doesn't see the big picture. And I didn't today. At all. I selfishly only saw myself and my filmy glassware. How boring.
I'm lucky that I have this entire summer "at home" to finish my class and paint my freakin' nails at will. Brett works a lot, and I recognize how easy I have it right now. Very soon I will join the working class and probably look back on this blog post and want to slap myself. But, part of this blog is committing to the experience, right? And this is kind of what I am experiencing right now. Selfish as it may seem.
I know exactly what is the underlying issue here. I have all of this time, all of this glorious, unwritten time...and I spend a lot of it alone. BOO HOO and all of that jazz, I know. But, sometimes I feel very much adrift in the unknown and (slightly boring, sorry,) waters of Ohio and Pennsylvania, and all of my lovely and colorful buoys are too far to reach. My main buoy (Brett) comes within my grasp from time to time, and I am so lucky for that. But, my friends, my family...they all seem so far away. I try replacing the hole their absence leaves with things like marinara sauce, long episodes of "Lie To Me" and chatty blogs like this. And it doesn't work. And sometimes I let it permeate through what should be a happy and relaxing time.
And then I have a breakdown over a defunct dish detergent.
I can rely on Brett, absolutely- but I cannot lean too heavily on him. That is not fair. I'm a big girl, I need to remember that. And you know what else I need to remember?
My friends and family may be on the other coast, but they are not gone.
My Mom and I chat way more than is acceptable. My sister Ashley sent me a picture of her feet today, infested with bug bites. (She's a charmer.) My friend Katie called me the other day to say she was wearing a "Melissa outfit!" "So, pajama pants and unkempt hair?" I asked her. "No!" she laughed. "A sweater, scarf, glasses, AND my hair is in a bun! My outfit made me think of you!"
(That was kind of a love letter to my soul, actually.)
I've chatted with my amazing girlfriend Corey in Boston, my sweet, sassy girlfriend Davlyn in New Hampshire. Facebook allows me to monitor and stalk every-one else, just like I would do physically anyway. And, when a group of my cousins went to a baseball game the other day in gorgeous San Francisco, they sent me a text that said: "WEATHER IS HERE! WISH YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL!"
So, I'm surrounded by those buoys, even if I can't physically touch them. And, Brett will come home tonight and hopefully tell me HOW AMAZING OF A CHEF I am. And maybe not notice that our glasses are probably ruined.
And we'll eat, and we'll laugh, and I will go for another run tomorrow.
And not take that day for granted.
(Unless I can't find a better dish detergent. I mean, let's be rational here.)