Poor Support Systems

There are two things that never cheer me up when I'm struggling: Facebook and my boss

Knowing this, I nonetheless insist on trying to squeeze water from those stones.

While today's problems became compounded the choices I made in seeking support, I am learning from these mistakes, and I am now less likely to repeat them.

Still gonna repeat them, for sure, but hopefully not so often.

The One With the Live Stream

The garden hose has no nozzle, so I placed my thumb across its mouth to aim water into the garden. The Husband watched in silence as I moved the arched stream from plant to plant.

"Marvel at my accuracy," I said.

"I am," he said. "You're as good as any boy."

Placement

The Husband and I are walking through Target.

Me: Oo! Office supplies!

He: No, honey, this is kitchen storage.

Me: Not if I put it on my desk!

Retired for Five Days Post Mortem

I think this experiment was a fail.

With unlimited time and permission, I was almost always at a loss for what to do. Apparently, I thrive with some sort of structure. 

This is not good.

Not good at all.

Retired for Five Days followup

So far, The Husband's answer to, "What would you do if you don't *have to* do anything," is ...

... start unstarted house projects and finish unfinished house projects.

For me, the answer so far has been...

... finish reading an unfinished book and buy toothpaste

Retired for Five Days

The Husband and I are in the middle of a 5-day weekend. We're not traveling anywhere, and we don't have any special plans. Just engaging in a mix of catching up on home projects and relaxing around the house. 

While we are very much enjoying tye time off from work, it doesn't feel like a "vacation". The Husband suggested we instead pretend we are retired.

Let me tell you, the mindset of a retiree is a far better than the one of someone on a "stay-vaction".

Time is more fluid.

We consider things we want to do rather than things we *have* to do.

We ask ourselves what would today look like if there was no one to tell us what liked and didn't like, what we wanted and didn't want, where we should be or shouldn't be.

Or when.

We watch the news only as long as the morning coffee lasts.

No alarm clocks. No schedules.

We might go grocery shopping at 11pm tonight or 4am tomorrow. 

Who says we have to wait for lunch at noon if we're hungry at 10:30?

If I nap at 5pm, I'll never be able to fall asleep at 10, but so what? Why do I need to be asleep by 10? I don't have anything I need to get up for in the morning. I can just stay in bed until I'm done sleeping.

Who knows? Who cares?

This is new, and it is a pleasant experience.

The Medi-Ogre

I had this dream last night...

A friend has invited me to a blog meet-up at a bar/restaurant. I am nervous but excited to get to know other bloggers and be social. There are half a dozen people at a table in the corner of the restaurant. We make introductions and settle into cozy, warm sharing of thoughts and ideas. It is nice. 

I'm the first one to leave. I shake each person's hand, and we exchange kind words. Except for the last person. She tells me she was unimpressed.

I step back. "Great. I get five positive encounters, but now I'm going to obsess over the one that wasn't nice. You could have just said, 'Nice to meet you.' You could have said nothing at all." 

I gather my possessions which turns out to be an unusual amount of paper notebooks and folders considering this is a digital blog group. It takes an uncomfortably long time to pick everything up.

I continue to speak, "I can't even storm out properly. So, there's another thing that will not impress you."

And as I finally walk away, I call over my shoulder, "Don't worry. I won't blog about this because it would be too mediocre for you!"

And in the dream, I mean this. I have no intention of rehashing the encounter to anyone, especially myself.

But the dream continued...

I return to the bar/restaurant later. No idea why. I go to the bar area of the building to avoid any lingering blog people and sit alone in a booth. The owner approaches greeting his regulars as he passes through

"As I live and breath!" he exclaims when he sees me. "Is that The Medi-Ogre? Hey everyone! It's the Medi-Ogre!" He claps me on the shoulder and keeps walking.

I grab his arm and demand to know who told him to call me that. He tells me everyone thinks it's a funny name, and he doesn't understand why I am upset.

"You've been through junior high school, right?" I say. "Wonderful time, right? Everyone is kind and non-judgmental, right?" I pause for the sarcasm to settle in. "One day some kid gives you a nickname. You don't like it, but you try to be cool about it, ignore it, wait for that kid to eventually get bored with it. But they don't, and that kid tells all the other kids, and now everyone calls you that name. So you leave, go to another school where you can start over. But they tell your nickname to the kids in *that* school, too. You can't escape it. It follows you everywhere. And you didn't even do anything to deserve it in the first place."

At this point, the owner and everyone in the bar is sad. I say to him, "It's okay. You didn't know." I give him a hug, and we both cry. Everyone in the bar joins our hug.

And the dream ends.

Littlest Piggies redux

Considering how many times I have dislocated each of my pinkie toes, you would think I'd be more careful walking around the house barefoot.

But, you'd be wrong.

::sigh::

Poor little guys 😔

Manners

Ever since our boss got a new puppy, we've been trying to convince her to have a Bring Your Dog to Work Day. Yesterday after being cajoled to no end, our boss finally told us the puppy needs to learn some manners first.

Remarked I, "Based on those requirements, I'm surprised you allow *us* in the office."

Tater

Him:  You okay in there? I'm hearing odd noises.

Me, in the kitchen: 

🎶Tater, tater, taters

Don't make me wait for laters

Give me mashed potaters

Now🎵