It’s been a hard few weeks, between trying to fix up a rental house that got the tarnation beat out of it, trying to navigate the landmine that is parenting a rambunctious 9-year-old boy, trying to keep a marriage together when the bread-winner is working 70 hour work weeks to keep us afloat (see: rental house nightmare in ~ The Rental House From Hell ~), and trying to advocate for my children in their respective educational institutions…..well, I’m beat.
Stick a fork in me.
So this morning I kind of fell out of bed, in a very “whupped” mood, and I didn’t feel like taking on the world in my usual Landlady in Kung-Fu Hustle kind of way. (Thank you David Williams for defining me so accurately.) I woke up dead tired. And a little bit cranky. (re: Bitchy)
And then I drove a mile over to our neighbor’s house (where Varmint had participated in a sleepover party,) caffeine shot in hand, ready to just pick up my darlin’ and hustle over to the rental house to continue the painting and cleaning we’ve been working on. My mission was clear: Get in, grab the kid, make a brief pleasantry or two, and get out.
My error? “… a brief pleasantry or two.”
Who was I kidding? I’m a social critter. I may have been draggin-ass the moment I flopped out of bed, but being with people energizes me.
And when I was greeted with smiles and fresh coffee (which, if you recall, only fortified the caffeine shot I’d just downed) my mood lifted in .0134 seconds. They had me laughing, and telling stories, most of which were almost true, and I ended up spending damn near an hour just being re-energized with great people.
It felt so good to not be focusing on the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders (which is not the same as the weight I carry on my butt and thighs. I’m actually very adept at not focusing on those).
And the fact that these friends were new meant that I could pull out all of my old re-run schtick and they found it funny and fresh. New friends are great for that. I wish all of my friends were new. They are so easy to please. They have no bar, no standard by which to expect anything out of me.
And my juvenile potty humor still works on them, as opposed to my old friends, who have since figured out that I’m stuck in some toddler-esque developmental stage.
I dread the day when my new friends begin to roll their eyes at my humor. It’s only a matter of time. But until then, I’ll make use of my entire arsenal of childish humor, and have a darn-tootin great time doing it!
God bless new friends!
Let the pee-pee and poo-poo jokes begin!