My life just keeps getting more and ore interesting... and exciting :) I feel like writing this big huge long fantastic post about all the things that are going on right now, BUT I will spare you... because I just worked for 16 hours and took sleepytime drugs when I got home... Do you would probably all go blind trying to read anything more than what I manage to type in these brief minutes.
Currently, life is super fantastic! I have my fingers crossed and pretty much all of my appendages crossed that it stays super fantastic. The forecast is showing a bunch of AWESOME headed my way, but I may have to endure a few storms and stumbles first... but I think it will be worth it... and if none of this really makes sense to you right now.... THAT IS OK... because I don't really understand much of it either at this point and I'm sure a better post with some beautiful details will come in time and not drugged after a 16 hour day. The end.
p.s. I just noticed that this is my SECOND post IN THE SAME MONTH! Ladies and gentlemen, we have made progress in the blogging area of life!!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Surviving Adulthood? mostly?
Well as per usual it's been about three months so I remember I have a blog. That I sometimes write in, and today is the day for writing in. Mostly because I am sick and bored, which means I have nothing better to do than complain to anyone that will listen, or read.
Here's the thing... I don't get sick... ever. I never get sick Sure I get injured a lot. Injured frequently and probably lucky that I haven't been forced to live in a human size impenetrable bubble. But sick doesn't happen. So this is a bit weird. I don't like it at all. I think I'm dying. I spent the better part of yesterday yelling loudly from my secluded spot in the house about how I was dying and how things were getting dark, but I could see a light at the end of the tunnel etc. Roomie just rolled her eyes and told me time and time again that I'm was not, in fact, dying... after which I would grumble some more about being sick and dying and quiet down for a few minutes. I haven't been crying out in agony quite as much today because roomie's family is visiting, and they are not used to my dramatic and verbal views on sickness, and I'm trying to be well behaved... Roomie just brought me some toaster strudels... Pardon me while i devour them. Roomie made me some toaster strudels because I finished my healthy smoothy. That sounds a bit ridiculous, but nicely transitions us to my next point(s), and by points, I mean discoveries... or really just this all encompassing one...
I'm bad at being a grown up
Don't worry, I'm not upset. We all have different and special talents, and this is clearly not one of mine. I'm plenty good at lots of other things, but this one, this one escapes me like a monkey covered in butter chasing the banana truck. And yes, that really was the first thing that came to my mind while trying to describe my complete and utter failure at grownupness. And the fact that I just mushed "grownupness" in to a word, should be proof enough. But I'll continue anyway. At least until I get bored of this.
Lets start with the part where people keep sending me things in the mail that I don't want. When roomie says "I'm checking the mail" I have the strong desire to crawl under the bed and curl up into the fetal position, eyes closed, ears covered and completely hidden from what horrors may be coming. At that point things can go either way. The end result is either a small victory celebration that at least for today, there is not mail. The alternative is moaning and wailing and possibly crying as I tear open the envelope of death and hoping that maybe the paper cuts will destroy me before I reach what's inside. And then once it's open I will often do one of 3 things 1. call my dad and ask him explain 2. ask roomie to explain 3. cry. There have been times when all three plans have been executed.... those were rough days. As a kid, and even through college, the coming of the mail was a wonderful and glorious things that was filled with hope. Adulthood has turned into a bleak anxietyfest. And after all of my dramatic acting out due to mail, everything usually ends up being worked out. But that's not the point. The point makes more sense when I finish the story by saying "and then I set the mail down and it disappeared" and then I found it and it needed an immediate response... two weeks ago.
Now lets get back to the sick thing. Hi I'm Nichole and I'm a supposed grownup. I'm sick, this is how it goes down...
1. Buy several different medications and take them all until I get better.
2. Roomie finds out I'm taking all the drugs together and makes me check labels so I don't die, or roomie hides them because I can't be bothered with measuring the amount I'm taking
3. Go to the store for supplies, and come back with ice cream and pizza
4. Make a second trip to the grocery store the next morning with instructions from roomie for the rest of the weekend. Manage to follow instructions, but still bring home more pizza and ice cream as well, toaster strudels and chicken noodle soup with fun shapes (because who really likes boring noodles)
5. Apparently toaster strudels and ice cream don't help you get better. Eat spinach but somewhat against my will, except not.
*side note: roomie is EXCELLENT, and the point of above list is simply to exemplify my almost inability to be a real grown up, roomie has been extremely helpful through my current and ongoing rehabilitation.
I don't think I've missed any bill payments yet, but that is because most of them are electronic or automatic, and we can thank technology for making my adult life that much easier. Also I'm not getting bored of writing. There is a very real chance of a part 2, especially since that's not even half the reasons... but it may take a few months for me to feel like writing anything again. Especially when I'm no longer self-exiled/confined to this chair.
Here's the thing... I don't get sick... ever. I never get sick Sure I get injured a lot. Injured frequently and probably lucky that I haven't been forced to live in a human size impenetrable bubble. But sick doesn't happen. So this is a bit weird. I don't like it at all. I think I'm dying. I spent the better part of yesterday yelling loudly from my secluded spot in the house about how I was dying and how things were getting dark, but I could see a light at the end of the tunnel etc. Roomie just rolled her eyes and told me time and time again that I'm was not, in fact, dying... after which I would grumble some more about being sick and dying and quiet down for a few minutes. I haven't been crying out in agony quite as much today because roomie's family is visiting, and they are not used to my dramatic and verbal views on sickness, and I'm trying to be well behaved... Roomie just brought me some toaster strudels... Pardon me while i devour them. Roomie made me some toaster strudels because I finished my healthy smoothy. That sounds a bit ridiculous, but nicely transitions us to my next point(s), and by points, I mean discoveries... or really just this all encompassing one...
I'm bad at being a grown up
Don't worry, I'm not upset. We all have different and special talents, and this is clearly not one of mine. I'm plenty good at lots of other things, but this one, this one escapes me like a monkey covered in butter chasing the banana truck. And yes, that really was the first thing that came to my mind while trying to describe my complete and utter failure at grownupness. And the fact that I just mushed "grownupness" in to a word, should be proof enough. But I'll continue anyway. At least until I get bored of this.
Lets start with the part where people keep sending me things in the mail that I don't want. When roomie says "I'm checking the mail" I have the strong desire to crawl under the bed and curl up into the fetal position, eyes closed, ears covered and completely hidden from what horrors may be coming. At that point things can go either way. The end result is either a small victory celebration that at least for today, there is not mail. The alternative is moaning and wailing and possibly crying as I tear open the envelope of death and hoping that maybe the paper cuts will destroy me before I reach what's inside. And then once it's open I will often do one of 3 things 1. call my dad and ask him explain 2. ask roomie to explain 3. cry. There have been times when all three plans have been executed.... those were rough days. As a kid, and even through college, the coming of the mail was a wonderful and glorious things that was filled with hope. Adulthood has turned into a bleak anxietyfest. And after all of my dramatic acting out due to mail, everything usually ends up being worked out. But that's not the point. The point makes more sense when I finish the story by saying "and then I set the mail down and it disappeared" and then I found it and it needed an immediate response... two weeks ago.
Now lets get back to the sick thing. Hi I'm Nichole and I'm a supposed grownup. I'm sick, this is how it goes down...
1. Buy several different medications and take them all until I get better.
2. Roomie finds out I'm taking all the drugs together and makes me check labels so I don't die, or roomie hides them because I can't be bothered with measuring the amount I'm taking
3. Go to the store for supplies, and come back with ice cream and pizza
4. Make a second trip to the grocery store the next morning with instructions from roomie for the rest of the weekend. Manage to follow instructions, but still bring home more pizza and ice cream as well, toaster strudels and chicken noodle soup with fun shapes (because who really likes boring noodles)
5. Apparently toaster strudels and ice cream don't help you get better. Eat spinach but somewhat against my will, except not.
*side note: roomie is EXCELLENT, and the point of above list is simply to exemplify my almost inability to be a real grown up, roomie has been extremely helpful through my current and ongoing rehabilitation.
I don't think I've missed any bill payments yet, but that is because most of them are electronic or automatic, and we can thank technology for making my adult life that much easier. Also I'm not getting bored of writing. There is a very real chance of a part 2, especially since that's not even half the reasons... but it may take a few months for me to feel like writing anything again. Especially when I'm no longer self-exiled/confined to this chair.
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