I’m not sure where I thought I would be with writing, at this point. So I suppose you could argue that there is no way I could know that I’m not there. Yay!
I wonder how many people broke their fingers punching the “unsubscribe” button over and over because IS SHE TRYING TO BORE US TO DEATH???
I just wanted to get used to my own voice again. I’ve been focusing – and failing – at writing for other pubs that require a more nuanced voice and while those other voices are certainly more profitable, I can’t believe I just used “nuanced” in a sentence, I think you have to be careful not to lose your own. Voice.
Some folks, confounded by my decision to turn off comments, have messaged me. And I have misinterpreted their concern as a defensive and/or critical reaction to something they read. And stomped around and had animated conversations with myself about it. That is one of the things I need to work on. I woke up this morning and re-read a message and realized it had nothing to do with what I had written and I am ridiculous.
Over the weekend I kind of did the same thing to someone. I gave advice to someone who only wanted a listener. She’s a grown ass woman figuring things out, and she is on a positive path and still I had to say at least a couple of words, and I could tell it made her cranky. I get that. One of the dumbest things we do as humans is think that we know someone else’s journey better than they do. My life is full of people like that, who seem to think it is their job to ask why I am doing a thing, or why I am doing it a certain way, or why am I not doing it the way they would do it. It’s that last one that’s the worst. Sometimes they have better ideas. That’s ok. But sometimes those ideas are just different paths to the same result.
And if I reject the unsolicited advice, I get the “You’ll see.” smirk. Sometimes their way is better, sometimes it’s just better for them.
I have to go apologize to my friend. Because when someone is done catching you up with their life, and they are feeling strong – even though it feels like this is where you offer your opinion because you can’t just sit there in awkward silence, maybe just say that it sounds like you have that shit under control, friend, let me know if I can help or offer suggestions if you find yourself stuck. The only circumstance would be if that is not true – like if part of their immediate action plan was to put a finger in an electrical outlet or try to race a train.
It is possible to support someone, offer suggestions when requested, and not be an insufferable asshole.
And I am supposed to be cleaning, because it is Monday, and that is what is on my mind. TRIGGER WARNING REALLY BORING PART AHEAD AND ALSO CLEANING WHO WANTS TO READ ABOUT THAT?
I wake up at 6:00am. My alarm is set for 6:30 but my kids are both set for 6 and at least one of them, usually the same one, ignores it and it wakes me up. I get up and open at least one kid’s bedroom door and say “Insert child’s name here! Turn off your alarm!”
And I go back to bed for 20 minutes and scowl because that is stupid I am not getting any more sleep I might as well set my alarm for 6. I get up and put on my softy black I-am-not-doing-shit-today outfit but that is a lie because it is cleaning day. I think I mentioned that.
I feed all 20 million of my cats, and I pour some coffee, and then I go to the foot of the stairs and yell “Hey, Whichever child I can’t hear moving! Get up! It is 7am!”
And I make sure the dishwasher ran. The laundry is on a timer as I put a load in last night, it starts an hour after everyone is done showering and is gone.
I sit down and drink coffee for 3 minutes and then I get up and go to the foot of the stairs and yell “Hey, whichever kid hasn’t come downstairs yet, GET OUT OF BED RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO MISS YOUR BUS AND I AM NOT TAKING YOU TO SCHOOL!!”
Which they know is a lie but they get up and a few minutes later everyone is gone.
I finish my coffee and go change into my “can-get-bleach-on-it-and-I-won’t-cry” outfit, drag the Giant Bucket of Cleaning Supplies out of the closet and we are off.
I turn Roomba loose in my room while I pour toilet bowl cleaner in every toilet.
Then I clean the bathtubs and sinks and sweep the floor.
Then I mop the floor with these nifty little mop shoes.
Then I turn Roomba loose downstairs.
Then I clean the upstairs toilets. Yuck.
Clean downstairs bathrooms.
Turn Roomba loose in basement.
Mop kitchen floor.
Clean disgusting cat litterbox closet.
Swear profusely because that is gross, gross, gross.
Gather up all trash, put in big bag, put it outside because tomorrow is trash day.
Clean windows if needed. As in “I must be going blind oh wait it’s the windows,” needed.
Put cleaning rags on washer for next bleachy load.
Put away supplies.
Change back into not-doing-shit-today clothes.
And then I come down here and write.
Except I am clearly doing that first, so now everything is ruined.
It has taken every ounce of self control I have not to break this into two pieces.
BUT I AM NOT GOING TO DO THAT I AM GOING TO PUBLISH RIGHT NOW.