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Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

13 June 2011

I'm so glad I'm a GIRL...

I am having one of those days where I'm so tired and cranky that all I want to do is drink caffeinated beverages and cry.  The problem is, I'm not sure I have any actual valid reason to feel this way.


This pre-menopause crap is hitting me HARD, yo.  I have been walking a tightrope of PMS, PMDD, PMHIJK and LMNOP.  My constant mental state is one of irritation and depression, with chocolate and salt cravings.


I'm like a pissed off, bloated chihuahua, constantly yapping and snarling at everyone, then wandering off to sit on a pillow and shiver.  


I got plenty of sleep last night (really... there is absolutely no reason for me to be tired.  None).  I got up this morning and started working on my website to be a sales consultant (yes, I'm being evasive for a reason... because if my mother finds out what I'm doing, she might disinherit me and I need the money, y'all).  


After reading the instructions, logging in, downloading, redownloading, re-reading, tearing my hair out, two cups of coffee, and breaking a nail, I couldn't figure out how to get it up and running.  Then my internet went on the blink for about 5 minutes, and when I finally got back online, everything was GONE.  Gone.  GONE... and I had to start over.


I threw myself face down onto my bed and bawled.  I cried because I'm homesick, I cried because I'm too old to figure out how to set up what should be a really simple website, I cried because I'm broke, and I cried because it's one thing I do really, really well.


I then made plans to pack up my dog, get into my little red car, and haul ass back to California, because I was pretty sure that everything that happened this morning (the whole one thing) was totally New York's fault.  In California, not only did I not NEED a website, I had enough money to buy myself a nice handbag once in a while and there was an espresso place on every corner.  (Which there ISN'T in New York.)


I eventually emerged from my bedroom, poured myself a glass of Coke Zero, ate a spoonful of peanut butter, and contemplated my next move.  


I decided setting up my website was too hard.  It might make me cry again.  I needed to do something that would be productive and make me feel useful.  (Being unemployed is not a good way to feel useful. Trust me on this.)


I made meatballs and homemade spaghetti sauce, and dumped it alllll into the crockpot.  There is nothing better than a delicious crockpot full of fragrant marinara sauce on a chilly day to make everything better, right?


That done, I decided to get back to work on my website.  If I don't get this done and start selling stuff, the dogs are going to have to go without Pupperoni and I may never have the means to buy a new purse again.  (Not to mention the fact that if I ever want Starbucks again, I'm going to have to buy myself a franchise.)


I clicked and highlighted and finally got my website up and running.  Feeling fairly proud of myself for not needing the Geek Squad to come rescue me,  I took a break and treated myself to one of the 400 episodes of Bones that I have recorded on DVR.  (Okay, I'm lying.  I watched Maury first.  THEN I watched Bones.  Don't judge me.) 


I got a few more things done, like making the bed and doing some laundry and started feeling happier around lunchtime.


I came into the kitchen and lifted the lid off the crockpot.  


Hmmmmm, I thought.  This lid is awfully cold...


Yeahhhhh.  I forgot to turn the damn thing ON.


What at one time would have made me laugh, today triggered a minor breakdown.  


The scary part is that while I'm falling apart for absolutely no good reason, I'm TELLING myself, "Dude!  You are totally over-reacting!  Get a grip!"  (And then I scream, "Shut up!  You don't understand me!  Waaaaaah!" back at myself.  We have quite a volatile relationship, myself and I do.)  


I eventually solved all my problems with Biscotti and a fat free latte.  I feel like such a stereotype.  And I hate that.  


Puberty was a breeze.  Menopause?  SUCKS.  Trust me on this.