It’s fine. I’m fine.

This is it. This is the big one. It’s happening. This is where it all ends.

I set my alarm a half hour earlier today because lately, every morning some strange phenomenon prevents me from being on time. That was pointless. I should know by now that if I set my alarm early, that gives the universe thirty extra minutes to mess with me. But…here goes nothing. Hit snooze once, give myself a pep talk and head straight for the Keurig. I feel the anxiety from the past few days hanging on but it’s a new day, right? Look outside and it’s dreary and cold. Strike one.

I open the kennel to let my adorable little pup outside and she does her duty right away. Ok awesome! She pooped. So now I know that she definitely won’t poop in the house this morning, like she does every other morning. I give her a treat and put her back in her kennel. Ha Ha sweet pup! You’re not destroying the house while I shower today. I am one step ahead of you. I WILL WIN! I sip my coffee in the shower and smile. I got this.

I’m in my closet picking out my wardrobe. Something bright for today. I bend down to grab my shoes and the little piece of metal that holds my pants together pops off. I wasn’t sure what happened at first. I just knew that I could breathe now. Then I realize that my butt grew again. Whatever. It’s fine. I have other pants. I’m too old for the Juniors section anyways.

Go into the kitchen to feed my cute little puppy and my reason for living, my son. No milk. Not much of anything really. Money has been a little tight since I spent a few hundred on boarding school for my genius canine. But it was totally worth it. Our lives are going to be much easier now that’s she’s trained and perfect. I find a zebra cake in the cupboard. That will have to be breakfast today. It’s only one day. Judge me.

Time to get my makeup on and do my hair while the puppers eats. I can hear her running around downstairs. She’s so playful and adorable. She comes running upstairs (missing me, I’m sure) and right behind her comes the swift aroma of death. Maybe she just tooted. It’s fine. Wow, it’s hard to brush your teeth when you have to inhale that poison. It might actually kill me. Downstairs I find two separate plops of fecal, feckel, feculence. You’re kidding me, right? OK, don’t panic. I’ll still be on time. And I probably would have been except I spent fifteen minutes dry heaving when my finger poked through the paper towel while picking up my dog’s demon excretion.

The kid is fed, hair and makeup done. Brush my teeth again for a deep cleanse. Bend down to put my beauty products away. No clue that the dog snuck behind me and grabbed a ball of tissue out of the garbage. Step downstairs again to find a f*%$#*&! winter wonderland on my living room floor. And it still stinks. I’ll never have nice things again. I clean it up and surrender. Sorry son. We won’t make it on time today. We never even stood a chance. Fall to my knees and repeat “WHY” super loud because depression tells me that my problems are the worst. Fight me.

Clean up the tissue. While I’m doing that, Satan grabs the empty box of Zebra cakes that my son apparently couldn’t muster up the strength to throw away in the garbage can 3 feet away, and starts shredding. Now is probably a good time to take my anxiety meds. Take Satan out again. She won’t pee so I guaran-damn-tee she’ll leave a treat in her kennel for me. I flip out on my kid because I don’t know what else to do and it feels right. The school bell rings in 3 minutes. It’s fine.

I apologize to my son for being psychotic and lay on the theatrics about how I just need some help around here and it wouldn’t kill him to put garbage in the garbage. Drop him off. Drive to work in silence. Get myself more worked up thinking about everything I need to do. Worry obsessively about whether or not I unplugged my curling iron even though I know I did because I actually felt the outlet with my hand, because OCD tells me that a visual is not good enough.

Get to work. Put my gourmet Ramen noodles in a safe place. Co-worker walks in my office. “Did you know your brake light is out?”

And……ACTION.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s