Thursday, December 3, 2015

in the rain, no one can see your tears

Yesterday one of my alert readers pointed me to this pleasant article about poisoned potatoes.  Fortunately, I didn't seem to suffer any noticeable effects from my bout with a controversial potato

I was super excited yesterday to finally workout again.  I haven't been since before my trip.  Because of holiday scheduling and work, we've missed a few of our workouts and changed our regular time for this session.  And I fkn blew it.  I had it on my calendar at the correct time.  I even texted my partner at 7 am, raring to go.  And when the time came, I confused myself and thought we were meeting at our regular time.  Until he texted me asking where the fuck I was.  Sigh.  By then it was too late, so I apologized profusely and decided to run errands.  And felt like a complete dumb-ass.  A sad dumb-ass.  I was really, really looking forward to working out and laughing with him.  Yes, I could have gone by myself, but it wouldn't have been the same.

I went to the pool store because my pool is always just on the edge of going green, and I was out of de-greenifying stuff.  Once there, I asked about buying a larger container so I wouldn't have to make as many trips.  And then I had to do maths.  Figure out ounces in a pound and what worked as more economical.  I reached for that muscle that I've used since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and it wasn't there.  It was as if a sonic boom had gone off inside my head.  Just a thundering silence.  Fortunately, the employee was more on the ball mentally than I was and helped me out.  

I stopped to get groceries, too, because Kitten was almost out of food.  When I was walking into the grocery store, I passed by their Christmas trees for sale, took a deep whiff of evergreen, and got a visceral punch in the gut.  (Or maybe that was the poisoned potato.)  Twenty years of Christmases together flooded my brain, and the tears started forming in my eyes.  I was dressed for the gym, so I didn't have my regular purse.  No tissues.  I found an empty aisle to cry in and hoped no one was watching through the ceiling cameras as I dabbed at my eyes with the sleeves of my t-shirt.  I'm not sure I bought everything I needed.  I passed by the baked goods and thought about getting cupcakes to make me feel better.  They didn't appeal to me.  How pitiful.  And healthy.

I steered into the checkout line and waited while the elderly couple ahead of me went through several credit cards to find one that would work.  If their bill hadn't been close to $200, I would have treated.  As I waited, I people-watched and noticed that the day shift of grocery-baggers was like the day shift at a strip club, definitely third string.  

I came home, put away groceries, and went Catholic on the mildew on my back deck.  I stayed out there on my hands and knees, scrubbing and crying until the sadness subsided.  While I was cleaning, the heavens opened up and mourned with me.  In the rain, no one can see your tears.

I keep telling myself that I'm fine.  I'm strong.  I can do this.  And yet, I can see the water receding like before a tsunami, and I know it's gonna be bad over the next few weeks.  January can't come fast enough.  In the meantime, I need to make new happy memories.  And I will, because I'm choosing happiness over the alternative.

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