I think I might be crazy.
Not people in black cars are following me. Not that kind of crazy. But ... definitely not right in the head crazy.
So after a wonderful day of relaxation and fun on Saturday, I had to buckle down and get a few things down at the old homestead on Sunday. After all, I need to get the place sold. So I drove over and went to work on the upstairs bathroom.
I threw away a black garbage bag full of half-empty hairspray cans ... eye shadows I used once and hated ... an old makeup box that was full of lipstick and foundations that I would never use ... not in a million years. After I cleared everything out, I scrubbed down the vanity and the floor and the toilet. I still need to scrub down the bathtub ... but from the hallway, the bathroom looks completely sparse and clean.
It was at that point, that I started having trouble breathing. It was probably the cleaning products. In retrospect, I should've opened a window. But I heard whistling and realized it was me. I was wheezing badly. I went downstairs, dug in my purse, found my inhaler, and had a seat in the kitchen ... just waiting for the medicine to kick in.
And looking around ... that's when everything seemed so overwhelming. There's so much I need to do. Stuff I can get done in one weekend ... okay, maybe two ... if I just put my head down and push through it. But still ... so goddamn much.
I started crying. I know part of it was self pity ... because I wound up being the only one responsible for someone else's debt and stuck with a house that badly needs upkeep. It's an immature, selfish thought ... but I can't help wishing *I* could've just walked away from it all. Part of the outburst was from frustration. I can't find my grandmother's recipes or my dad's letters from Viet Nam. For years I kept them in a special box beside my bed and now that box is gone.
I should've worked the rest of the day ... at least for a couple more hours. But instead I did something completely un-helpful. I picked up the bag of bathroom junk, put it in the garbage bin outside, locked up the house, and I left. I spent the next hour or two driving around. I went to an office store and bought some markers. I went to Michaels and bought more markers.
It's true. When I'm stressed, I buy art supplies.
My hands were shaking from the asthma medicine ... so I drove through Chi-Town and got a Cherry Coke ... another un-helpful action since I spent the next 12 hours peeing every 45 minutes.
I went to two Walgreens and picked up three prescriptions. I went to County Market and got a rotisserie chicken. I went to Joanne's Fabrics and immediately left. They were having a sale and the checkout line weaved around the store like a sweaty, irritable snake. I drove around looking for the Hallmark Store and discovered it had gone out of business.
I just drove ... listening to a podcast called Serial Serial. Yes ... I was so desperate for entertainment that I was listening to a podcast about a podcast. I think I spent close to $50 in this rambling quest for who knows what before I decided I needed three things. I needed to cook, I needed to draw, and, most of all, I needed Stoney.
So I headed for my new home ... where I made Christmas cards ... listened to more of the podcast ... ate a delicious dinner that Stoney made for us ... and watched Christmas Vacation with him. He made it better ... he made me better.
Nothing is fixed. I still have to finish cleaning out the house. I've come to the decision that no one is going to buy a house right before Christmas. But I think if I work hard, I could get this ready to go by January 1st. That seems like a reasonable, attainable goal. I need to just go in ... work through whatever anger or resentment I have ... and remember that the harder I work ... the quicker I get this behind me.
Can't stop, won't stop moving
It's like I got this music
In my mind
Saying, "It's gonna be alright."
Taylor Swift - Shake It Off