Today is not off to a good start; at least not from an introverted “today’s my day off of no people” perspective.
Some backstory: The weather is pretty icky. The forecast keeps flipping back and forth between rain and three inches of snow. The news people this morning reported a lot of the main roads are bad with black ice.
Enter me, waking up around 9ish to the sound of people talking in the living room. No bueno. Voices in the living room should NOT be a thing today. It’s Tuesday. Mama Ox should be at work. Ox is still at work until 11ish. Papa Ox, while he has been hanging out in the living room recently during the mornings, is usually working on his laptop, not conversing with people. Nothing good can come of voices at home this early in the morning.
I stayed in bed for as long as I could, avoiding the social onslaught I knew would happen by my emerging from the sacred darkness of the bedroom. Unfortunately, my bladder could only hold out for so long, which wasn’t nearly long enough by my standards. The Universe took pity on me, allowing me to venture forth during a period of quietness. Mama Ox had stepped outside, leaving only Papa Ox in the living room. He’s gruff “morning” wasn’t overly abrasive to my introverted senses. It’s normally the extent of our conversations when I first wake up.
Mama Ox was still MIA when I was done with the restroom so I took the opportunity to switch the wash really quick and to heat up my breakfast.
I went outside to my car to get my pack of cigarettes and I realize as I type that how many people are most likely glaring daggers at their computer screen.
Unfortunately, this is where my luck ended. Mama Ox was outside raking up the gravel in the driveway, trying to break up the thin layer of ice over everything. Begin long conversation from hell that I’m not ready for. I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet. She explained how she called into work today since the weather was bad. I totally get it. If I ever had the option to do that without screwing over the clinic and my team, I totally would be all over calling in. But dudebro, can I at least have five minutes to myself before you launch me face first into a concrete wall of social?
It’s like she’s grown a sixth sense for when I don’t want to talk and specifically hunts me down during those exact moments to have long, drawn out, pointless conversations that make me want to stab my eyes out.
What did I do to deserve having to socialize before my brain has made peace with the fact that I have to deal with people literally all day now rather than having a small, handful of measly hours of silence to myself before going back to work and dealing with people all over again?
I’ve already sent a text message to Ox bemoaning my woefully social morning. Our day wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be productive.
I was supposed to move a bunch of the insulation upstairs so we could finish my little dragon den area so I have a place to call my own this weekend while the kids are here. It was supposed to be a small task I could do on my own to prep the area so when Ox got home we could get straight to work.
I haven’t gone up to do that yet, but I think it’s not going to be as easy getting the insulation moved out of the room as it was getting it in there. The stairs leading up to my dragon den aren’t completed. It’s just the frame for the stairs. The boards for the steps having been cut yet. Going up wasn’t a big issue because I could just lift the insulation and slide it back on the floor. Going down, I’m worried about tearing the plastic wrapping the insulation, and I’ll have to do it one at a time since I can’t slide the ones I place down out of the way. It’s a relatively small piece of friction to the day, but with the sandpaper of this morning still grating against my skin, it makes it feel like the day is falling to ruin since nothing will get accomplished like it was supposed to.
If I buckle down and deal with people being home, I could still go out to the kitchen and make the shopping list like I wanted to. I could still write down all the spices I need for my seasoning mixes along with what I need for the bourbon chicken recipe I found. I could at least try to move the insulation and if it proves to be too much for a single person, Ox and I could still get it done together. We could still go into town and have lunch and spend some time together, just the two of us, away from home and the rest of the family like we had planned. It just won’t be as efficient gas wise since he would have to come home to get me first, rather than me meeting up in town. He’s already offered to do that for me; for us, so we can still have our day.
There are ways for today to not be bad. Different doesn’t mean bad, but right now my introverted brain is having a hard time not viewing everything as shattered, broken glass fragments with no point of trying to piece it back together. All I wanted was a few hours of solitude. Why is it so hard to get that? Why does it feel like that’s asking for too much; to be left alone?
And why is it so hard for Mama Ox to NOT buy six things of cookies and donuts and all of this other stuff that is clearly unhealthy and not helping anyone? Both her and Papa Ox have health issues. Eating potato chips and cookies totally doesn’t help either of them. It doesn’t help me lose weight because I’m not going to lie, I like cookies. I like dark chocolate and mint and caramel, so it’s easier to either not buy them, or to have them in small amounts than to have the kitchen filled with stuff like that and pray that I have the resolve to leave them alone when I’m starving after working for 12 hours.
Detached, unbiased fact: I don’t have the resolve to not have a cookie when it’s sitting there on the counter next to my water filter.
Arg. I’m just frustrated and I know I am. The day isn’t that bad. I haven’t been awake long enough for it to be that bad but god does it feel like sandpaper against my skin to not have my day go the way I wanted it to.
Right Brain: This wasn’t the deal, Universe! How dare you fuck up my to-do list after I’ve already written it in my notebook.
I feel like I do an amazing job of dealing with and putting up with and compromising with all of these factors in my life; all of these people and their habits and wants and needs and expectations. Why the fuck couldn’t I have had a single cigarette alone, outside, in the freeze single digit weather by myself for ten minutes out of the entirety of today? Why was that, is that, too much to get or expect or have? Why is it so hard for people to understand that being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely or sad or need intervention? Why does it feel like it’s too much to ask to just let me be me? Like being me and doing the things that make me content and whatever makeshift, brittle, fragile semblance of happiness I’ve learned to experience since mom died is crossing some line and is unacceptable and something that needs to be corrected.
God. Some days I just want to scream at people to get the fuck out of my hamster ball. >.<;