|1986. And 2011.|
Despite the fact that nothing got done this weekend, the fact remains that no matter what I do, it's never enough. For the house, at work, with money, for my health, for anyone. And as I stuffed my face with ham and cheese omelettes this morning while thinking about this and being depressed about it, I felt lost and stuck at the same time. Like everything is whirling around me and I can't grab onto anything -- even time is going by too quickly. I can't even stop to read a magazine or regain the "cozy" feeling my mom and I identified last night that I used to have when I was a kid, in my fort of pillows and a good book.
Let me back up. Every single day, I am surrounded by people who can wake up early in the morning, get to work, and yell out, "Hey, good morning everybody!!!!!!!!" and "How was your weekend?!!?!" Sometimes, they even have a work-out first. And then, "Here, look at these pictures of [my spouse and 2.5 children/my bathroom renovation that cost an assload of money that we'd actually saved up/my granddaughter, who we named Metallica/an ultrasound/a family vacation to the best place EVAR]," and I'm like, "Oh, yeah, cool, wow," instead of actually saying, "Do you wanna see pictures of my cats? Oh, you don't LIKE cats? Well, I don't like your stupid kids."
And maybe I actually do like their stupid kids, but I'm just jealous of the fact that everyone else has kids. Someone told me once that I hadn't taken the opportunity, and I could've punched her in the throat. Occasionally, I'll come back to earth -- like yesterday, I briefly came to my senses when a baby I'm not even blood related to farted on my hand. Somehow it's more bearable when my nieces did that. But then I went right back to "I wanna have babieeees... like five hundred babies...." Oddly enough, any time that I've gotten even close to having kids, the thought of it being real freaks me the fuck out. Everything I've wanted before -- house, job, a wedding -- has always been too much for me to handle once I actually get it.
How do people grow up, go to work, save money, have kids, take care of the house, stay healthy...? I can't even handle work and the house. When I lived alone, my apartments were spotless, but it seems like I upgraded and upgraded to a dwelling that I can't even take care of. It gets too dirty too fast. I'm pretty sure I only cooked three times this week, but when I came home last night after pretty much being out of the house all weekend, it looked like something had exploded in there.
It's just too much house. Sometimes I can't wait to sell the damn thing and go back to apartments.
So I want to have kids, yet I can't even keep a house clean, even when I'm hardly even there. I can wash and dry clothes, but somehow they still never make it out of the laundry room (and when I do take them upstairs, they stay in the hamper unless I fold the clothes and put them in drawers). I can take dirty dishes back to the kitchen, but all they do is sit on the counter. I want to have kids, but I can't figure out how to save money, and the book on personal finance that David bought for $0.03 is sitting on my nightstand, barely touched (for some reason it's my job to read it). I want to have kids, but I can barely get myself out of bed if I have fewer than ten hours of sleep. I want to have kids, yet every single morning for the last year, I have stared up at the same showerhead and thought -- every time -- "Hmmm. I should take a toothbrush to that thing and scrub off the soap scum." EVERY SINGLE MORNING FOR A YEAR. Have I done it yet? I'll give you two guesses, but you'll only need one.
"Then fucking grow up," you'll say, but I don't fucking know how, and I don't feel like I'm getting any help, either.
Update: I realized I'd missed an Orkin appointment and noticed a stain on my shirt. Both happened while the Beck song "Loser" was on the radio. Can't make this stuff up.