Everything feels impossible to understand these days -- from how a reality TV star Donald Trump has ascended this far in the GOP polls, to how the term "affluenza" has become part of our vernacular...
What I do understand is that I am moving at the end of the month and I am terrified.
I'm pretty stumped about how I'm going to execute the move. For anyone who has issues with disorganization (something that is characteristic of people with mood disorders/depression/chronic illness), a move is exceptionally terrifying.
A hot mess of an apartment becomes an even a bigger hot mess while in transit and upon arrival it expands like a sea monkey.
I dread all of it. If you're broke as a joke, the fear quadruples because you feel so vulnerable.
If you have an animal(s), you dread if for them. I have one 17 pound orange tabby cat named He Who Will Not Be Named. This time, I have had him for 13 years. Altogether, we have spent three lifetimes together, soaring hand and paw through ice-covered sparkly tunnels while eating powdered donuts.
He has never had a urinary or fecal oops -- unless we move. As soon as the poor guy is loaded in the car he pees everywhere. Yes, I bring towels, but it's a pain in the ass because I then have to pull over to clean the the carrier, and of course his paws and belly are all pee-soaked, and he's anxious and wide-eyed and desperate to escape. Of course, he has no idea that escaping the warm jalopy would be a poor choice when it's 8 degrees outside and coyotes like cats.
Once his bladder empties, the horrible howling echos through the car. He sounds like a cat who is in her first heat, and happens to still live right up the road from her perverted father and brother, both who like her, like her. I don't know if the familial bond made the lovemaking worse for this particular female cat (this story is obviously from personal experience), but seeing the coitus certainly screwed with my head for a few days. Slipping on an icy driveway wearing a nightgown and slippers, I attempted a fierce tug of war, but learned that cat penis is a mighty opponent.
So, she was knocked up and on the run. I felt like shit about the whole escapade, so took her home and named her Bertha. This story has a great ending. Bertha had two adorable kittens in a box in my living room. They both have heads and legs. I wasn't sure if the kittens would be properly assembled, but cuteness transcended incest and wah lah...two adorable babies.
All three have good homes and none are sluts.
So, I'm procrastinating about the move, which stems from fear, which makes everything worse.
Currently, my life is as scary as one of those dungeons where witches were kept during the Salem Witch Trials, and are now used as museums and scary, expensive haunted venues. This is also from personal experience. It was Halloween. I have no idea how I ended up in a freaking witch museum by myself. I froze and cried. They had to turn on the emergency lights (which ruined things for everyone), then backed me up like a bus - beeeep, beeeep, beeeep.
Everyone behind me was pissed or laughing. I mean, little kids were skipping through the thing like it was Disney's Clubhouse and I was pissing myself.
I am similarly anxious about this move. I'm really scared and stumped, which just edges out being a scared stump.
IN ADDITION, I've had lifelong cold-induced asthma and am not supposed to do anything in sub-30 degree weather but walk from warm building to warm building with a scarf wrapped around my mouth to keep my respiratory system all moist (I HATE THAT WORD!). Since steroid and rescue inhalers don't help enough to keep me from dying in 3 minutes or less, I have to now buy a 100.00 portable nebulizer so I'm not found face down in yellow snow, which would just be my luck.
Even better, I'll be face first in a pile of snow and no one will notice except for the neighbor's dog who will trot over and lift his leg over my head.
This all just sucks and I'm freaking myself out writing this, so me and my frog pjs will go collapse in a ball of horror.
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