This morning I went to the grocery store, and as I was walking through the parking lot, I noticed this older gentleman pushing a cart with a bunch of poinsettias in it.  He seemed to be staring at me.  And smiling.  Not a creepy leering sort of smile.  More a smile like he knew something that I didn’t.  It was disconcerting.

In retrospect, I wonder what he was planning to do with those poinsettias!

Just kidding.  In other news, I have been having kind of a rough week, emotion/mental health-wise.  I was talking with my life coach the other day, and I was doing really well.  I took the depression assessment thingy and scored a 4 or a 6.  Something really low.  It was a very good day for me.  However, as I told the life coach, although life has been trending in the up direction, I know that once a month it is going to start feeling like life really sucks–or maybe, because my life is really relatively easy (disgustingly easy, relatively speaking), it’s going to just feel like I really suck.  That’s more or less my pattern.  Here, let me break it down for you:

Step 1.  Start feeling stressed out because life is only a little bit easy instead of a lot easy.

Step 2.  Start feeling like everything is way harder than it needs to be.

Step 3.  Start freaking out because life is so hard.

Step 4.  Realize that life isn’t hard; I’m just weak.

Step 5.  Hate myself for being weak.  Become more stressed out because weak people don’t fare well in this world.

Step 6.  Become addicted to Valium.

Just kidding about Step 6.  Sort of.  I was going to tell you that my psychiatrist prescribed me Clonazepam for my Restless Leg Syndrome, and it has been helpful.  I sleep very, very well when I remember to take it.  Sometimes I go to bed without taking it because I think I am so tired that I cannot possibly need to take anything to help me sleep, but then my body inevitably reminds me that I do in fact have Restless Leg Syndrome–which is a real thing, not a joke thing like it sounds–and so, even though I am extremely tired, I get up and take my Clonazepam, which–here it comes, the point!–is a Valium cousin.  And let me tell you, gentle readers, it may all be psychological, but I feel so much better.  I feel good, in fact.  I totally understand why people become addicted to it.  My psychiatrist told me that people become addicted to it, but not usually people like me who are paranoid about becoming addicted to stuff.  But I totally understand drug addiction now, kids.  Understand in an empathic sense, I mean.  Not just, “Oh, I can imagine how that must be,” but, “Dude, if I weren’t so paranoid, I would be popping these babies all day long instead of just half a pill at night.”

Which brings me back to my original point, which you’ve probably forgotten by now, but I have not.  Actually, I’m a liar.  I had forgotten.  I had to scroll back and re-read what I typed earlier, but that’s okay.  Reminding oneself is close enough to pass for not forgetting, but I know you appreciate my transparency anyway.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  My original point, which is that I was telling my life coach that I anticipated this monthly, certainly-hormonally-informed breakdown, and she said it was good that I was self-aware–(of course it is; aren’t I always lauding myself for that?)–and recommended that I just plan to minimize stresses at that time of the month, not make any important decisions (hahahaha), lower expectations, etc.  Which sounded like excellent advice at the time, and actually probably is excellent advice, but have I mentioned lately THAT IT’S THE FREAKING CHRISTMAS SEASON AND THERE ARE ONLY 22 SHOPPING DAYS LEFT???  HOW DO YOU MINIMIZE STRESSES, AVOID MAKING DECISIONS AND LOWER EXPECTATIONS DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON???

[Cleansing breath in lieu of Valium-cousin break]

In related news, the kids have today off school.  It’s a “grading day” or something.  I don’t know.  Not that I care one way or the other, but I thought teachers were supposed to be all overworked and doing stuff like grading on their own time and crap.  No matter–if it weren’t “grading,” it’d be something else.  Oregonian children don’t spend a lot of time in school, supposedly.  As I understand it, it’s because people like me don’t pay enough taxes.  Well, we’ve already established that I don’t care about my own kids’ education, so I guess other people’s kids can just suck it.  Merry Christmas, Oregon children!  Enjoy a lifetime of not knowing how to read!

I’m sorry, but I’m really tired and I’ve been trying to write something that requires thought all week and my thoughts keep getting interrupted by things like children and guilt over telling the children to leave me alone for a few minutes so I can think, but even being left alone for a few minutes doesn’t seem to be helping.  It’s a problem.  The weekend does not promise to solve this problem.  The weekend does promise me that my PMS will start abating early next week, if all goes according to schedule.  When I italicize schedule like that, you’re supposed to pronounce it in your head the British way–shed-yule.  This should be especially easy if you are already British.  All you have to do is exaggerate your Britishness like an ignorant American would, and you will have it just perfect.

Anyway, my daughter is begging me to play cars with her now, and I only feel justified putting her off so that I can take my medication.  NOT the Clonazepam, the other stuff.  Which includes, incidentally, a Synthroid generic that looks a lot at casual glance like the Clonazepam.  Those are not two medications you want to mix up.  Fortunately, I am paranoid.  Adieu, gentle readers.  Adieu.

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