Whining For Dummies

Well, it's another one of those days. You know the kind I mean. When you just don't feel on top of things....There was nothing wrong with the day itself. It was a gorgeous, sunny, even warm day. Everywhere else in the country, it seems, people are dealing with terrible cold, snow, storms, ice---just the worse sort of weather. And we enjoyed a glorious day. Can't complain in that department; no doubt about it. Gold stars there.

But there's something about having to get up before 6:00 on a Saturday that just kind of throws the day off. My oldest son had an all-day wrestling meet and had to be at his school by 6:30. By the time I got home, it took me awhile to fall asleep again. It felt like I'd only been asleep for five minutes when the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of workmen for the kitchen. Yes, the remodel project that will not die. Over the course of the next two hours while I tried to be slothful, I had only mild success; I kept hearing staccato bursts of laughter and muffled conversation which intertwined with my semi-wakeful dreams and made it seem like only a form of sleep----not quite there but hovering in the vicinity. Soon thereafter the phone rang and I abandoned my pathetic attempts to sleep.

So....not the most promising start. Not bad---it's a beautiful day, remember---but not what it could have been. Next it happens that today I had occasion to see my husband's ex-girlfriend. She was at a gathering where we were, which happens a couple times a year, I guess---this matter of our paths crossing. The history goes something like this: she was first his good friend, then serious girlfriend, then ex-girlfriend for the various and sundry reasons that exes happen. I like X a lot and think she's great which makes it hard to hate her because she's beautiful. And has a great body. And is fabulously successful. Hmmm. Finding it hard to measure up here! Wondering how if I can see all the obvious discrepencies, my husband isn't going to. I teased him about it and he said all the right things, and I even believe him because that's the kind of guy he is. But it doesn't stop me from comparing myself to her and finding myself utterly deficient. Doesn't stem the tide of feelings that spill out from sloppily closed boxes which sit behind not-quite-shut doors. Their labels read like this: Blobby. Ineffective. Mediocre. Blah. Unfinished. Miscellaneous Baggage. The list is quite long; I don't want to overly bore you. You get the idea.

And then I come home to a house in which every single room is bordering on disaster. When did this happen? It seems to happen in a single day---from okay to the aftereffects of tornado in a single day. Not even a clean towel to be found. Why is keeping up so hard??? Fill in all the curse words you want here. It's the appropriate time.

After making a few pathetic attempt to clean, I realize I'm too tired. Seeing Miss Perfect (who, by the way, is happily married to a great guy and has two adorable kids) on too-little sleep was just too much. And, if you remember, I awoke before six. On a Saturday, no less.

Thank goodness tomorrow is another day.