I pretty much accomplished nothing last week. I was unproductive in almost every way. Emails and phone calls went unanswered, I didn’t work out, I didn’t blog, I occasionally didn’t even bathe. I’m not saying Gray wore the same outfit three days in a row before I noticed, but I’m not saying he didn’t either. It’s possible Jonas used the cat to dry his hair off on after a shower because we were out of clean towels. Beyond very basically sustaining life in this house by breathing, eating, and drinking wine, I managed very little, is what I’m saying.
I feel like you’re judging me right now. That’s what’s happening over there in your head, isn’t it? I can see it in your narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. You think I’m lazy, don’t you? You think I’m sad and lazy and old and I’ve given up.
Well it’s hard to be happy, motivated, young and engaged all the time! But in my defense, last week was stupid and I have a really lot of super valid excuses for my behavior (and lack thereof).
My 7 Excuses For Doing Nothing Last Week:
1. Jonas spilled a glass of water into my laptop.
I’m fully aware this is the ‘my dog ate my homework’ of being a grownup. I’m also willing to admit the first day after it happened, I may have taken the opportunity to ignore my responsibilities and daydrink a little bit. It’s not like we ever get snow days here in the desert, so I’m not going to look a gift reason-to-screw-around in the mouth, if you know what I mean.
That said, after four days of sharing a computer with my 13 year old and feeling panicky that none of my data would be recovered (and moderately awkward to learn that Google Chrome remembers my browser history if I log into Google+ on other computers), I was willing to pay almost anything just to have my own laptop back and working again. Of course, The Universe sensed this willingness and obliged with a bill of $900 to have the shorted out logic doohickey and top thingster replaced.
Now, since I’ve proven I can’t be trusted to have my beverage on the table next to me, I have to keep it on a special stool with a large enough gap to protect my electronics.
2. I had a cold.
Ben gave it to me. It was probably from sharing his computer. I knew I shouldn’t have clicked that link. (Get it? Computer virus? It’s funny, stop rolling your eyes.)
3. I had to pay my tax bill.
Yes, I should have paid quarterly. Yes, it’s a first world problem to have a large tax bill. Yes, I’m still complaining and yes, I still needed a day off to feel sorry for myself, because no, I’ve never actually written a check that large before in my life. (And yes, I paid my first quarter estimate for 2014 because I learned my lesson.)
4. I had to get my hair done.
It’s been six months since I first had my hairs bleached and dyed blue, so it was time to go back and have it all freshened and cut. I’m happy with the result:
But the entire process took MORE THAN THREE HOURS and tipped me into a shame spiral regarding just how goddamn high maintenance I’ve become in my elderly years. What happened to the days when I wouldn’t wash my face before bed? When I didn’t even put lotion on my legs? When I would cut my hair short once a year and simply let it grow and grow and grow until it was long enough to be annoying and chop it off once more? (I realize this makes me sound less ‘low maintenance’ and more ‘like a wildebeest’ but I was a happy, free, wildebeest.)
Now I have appointments for waxes and colors and cuts. I have stupidly expensive face soaps and lotions. Before I go to bed I basically have to strip off the top layer of veneer over my entire body and coat it in protective cream so I can reapply veneer all over again the next morning. I used to attend weddings with nothing but lip gloss an a tiny bit of eyeliner, now I have to put on full makeup to go to the grocery store so I don’t startle myself when walking past reflective surfaces.
It’s upsetting, is the point. And being overly-dramatic is time consuming.
5. I hurt my side.
Thursday night I dragged my poor, shame-spiraling, lazy ass to circus class in an attempt to work up some endorphins and stem the tide of self-hatred. We’d learned a new drop called Candy Cane the previous Saturday that looks like this:
This is Lauren, my instructor.
Of course, I managed to completely jack-up my left oblique doing it. And I’m an idiot and don’t at all understand the line between ‘not being a pussy when something hurts a little’ and ‘making a legitimate injury worse’, so I pushed forward and continued working out until I could barely stand because the entire left, middle side of my body was on fire. (I often err on the other side of that line and tell myself it’s ok to stop running and eat a donut because it seems like my pinky toe might be a little sore from the blister that could be forming. I need special tutoring on how to find this line.)
I was going to try to continue to ignore the injury, but on Friday one of my friends mentioned it could be a hernia and I got all super hypochondria-y and went to the doctor (confession: my only knowledge of hernias is that one episode of Friends where Joey has one but doesn’t have health insurance and it seemed really painful, but it wasn’t a ‘very special episode’ where he almost died or anything, so I guess they’re not really that big of a deal, right?). The doc said I effed it up and I should ice it and not do anything ab-ish for a week or two.
Yesterday I went running. Turns out running is ab-ish. Ow. I will never learn.
6. The teachers never work.
My kids had both a ‘super early release’ and a ‘stay home and annoy Mom all day because of a religious holiday they aren’t calling a religious holiday’ day last week. TEACHERS ARE SO LAZY.*
7. There’s a large, dead fly in my outside fridge and I don’t know how to make it stop being there without touching it.
So the point of all this is: It’s not my fault I accomplished nothing last week. In fact, I sort of need a week off to recover from last week. Right?
*OMG put down the pitchfork, I’m kidding. I love love love my kids’ teachers for not expelling or institutionalizing my children. Jonas swore today is what’s called his ‘King Day’ and it means he’s allowed to bring an unlimited amount of his favorite toys to school to show everyone, which sounds nothing short of completely invented by a 6 year old’s brain, and yet I allowed it and it’s 11 a.m. and his teacher hasn’t even called me yet. How can I not simply worship her?