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It's amazing what a difference a clean house makes. When I moved into my loft shortly after my last relationship ended, I was determined to keep a very neat, clean, organized space. Quite the opposite of what I'd learned to live with. I did a really good job until I had a bout of depression.
I have battled major depression my entire life. While I am medicated and see a therapist regularly, there isn't really a "cure". It's still a daily battle, the meds just make it a little easier. So, every now and then I will still hit a rough patch. This happened last month. The upkeep fell apart and the loft became a black hole.
While depressed, I have no motivation to do anything, including throw away trash (not food trash - that's just too nasty), pick up, do laundry, etc. So, after a couple of weeks of it, the place was a wreck. Once I resurfaced I had a new problem. I had no idea where to start. Thank Dog for Mark. He was my savior.
Mark is one of those crazy people that loves cleaning and organizing (his own place he pointed out). He was kind enough to rescue me from the hole. Yesterday after working out we went straight back to my place and started cleaning. By the time he left at 10pm, the place looked like it did before the depression - still not 100% unpacked from moving, hardly decorated, but clean! I felt like I could breathe again.
We got a few more boxes unpacked and cleaned out the closet (yes, that's singular). I tossed out all of my XL and XXL clothes. It was hard because some had only been worn once, but I refuse to keep them anymore. The cool thing about living in the ghetto is that I can put the clothes out by the dumpster and they're gone within an hour. The homeless love it when I clean my closets!
I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and happy again. It's amazing what kind of effect a clean place has on a person. I feel human again and for that I am more grateful than I will ever be able to express.
After the weekend of binge drinking and bad eating I've decided it's time to fast. Actually, I went into CVS to get a Thermacare pad for my back and came across the Celebrity Diet - a two day fast. I have a shopping addiction.
It's been established that I have a problem with Kenneth Cole. I can't go into a KC store without buying something. Apparently it isn't limited to clothes and shoes. Everytime I seem to "run in" somewhere, I walk out with multiple bags an hour later. Saturday I ran to CVS for allergy medicine before going camping. An hour later I returned with 4 bags and $100 less. Tonight I go in for a heat patch and decide it's time for a fast.
This is how my life operates. The world is full of stuff that I don't need. I'm very big on "just in case" and "what if". I like to be prepared for whatever might happen - anytime, anywhere. Cub scouting had a major effect on me. That stupid, simple motto: Be Prepared stuck with me and fed into my shopping addiction. Sometimes I have to force myself to put everything down at the counter and just walk away. Sometimes that's all I need. To just shop and plan, but not really purchase.
OK, I know - my therapist has a field day with me sometimes.
Gooooood Looooord...
I'm a mess. I'll admit it. St Patrick's Day served as a reminder as to why I don't drink liquor very much anymore. I'm going to make this a very short post because I'm very drained and want to limit embarassing myself as much as possible.
I drank more than I have in many years. I remember bits and pieces of the evening, but for the most part, I have no recollection. What I do know is that I started emerging from my blackout (I lost a few hours) while sitting on the floor of a strange trailer, naked, throwing up into the person's shower. I have no idea how or why I was naked - no one will talk. What I do know is that I apparently have made a name for myself at the ranch. Oh joy, oh joy.
Actually, the embarassment has faded and I have made myself memorable I guess. All in all it was a good weekend. Next time I'll just have to control the liquor intake. Maybe stick to beer and a couple of shots instead of Vodka and a bottle of tequila. OK, I can't think about it anymore. I think I'm feeling a little sick again.
oh
my
god!
The Scissor Sisters concert was awesome! And that isn't a word I use lightly - in fact, I never use that word. But it was! For more than just the concert - don't get me wrong - I LOVE them, but last night was kind of a monumental night. Last night was the meeting of the best friends.
I have known Stacie for 15 years. We've been best friends for most of that time, and during that time there were no others. I didn't think it would be possible to have more than one. I mean the word is "best" right? As in, nothing better - and singular, but I was wrong. Now there's Mark.
The two had never met before last night. It's always a little stressful, but it went great! They got along, and better than that - they actually like each other! They weren't as crazy about me with them together. I have this natural sarcasm and bitchiness that is in my blood. (One reason I don't have a lot of friends). With Stacie and Mark individually I'm free to be my sarcastic bitchy sSelf. Well, apparently when I'm around the two together I go into bitchy hypermode. Luckily Stacie's been around long enough to know that if I'm like that with you it is a sign of affection. As messed up as it is I show affection by making snide remarks.
I've worked on it and have finally come to the conclusion that it will never change. I'm not a negative person necessarily, just a little bitchy at times. Anywho - I'm excited because it's time for another ranch weekend! WooHoo!!! I think St Patrick's Day is one of my favorite holidays...I'm such an alcoholic...
I have nothing to write about today. I know what I'm going to write about tomorrow and Monday, but for today - nothing. I was going to write about the car show, but I decided to let Mark and Brian do that alone. They need some alone time, especially since I'll be spending the next few days with them doing stuff. So, here I sit with not a lot to say. But I do remember a dream from last night.
Last night I dreamt I wrote a book. Actually, it was a continuation of a previous dream - at least I think it was. I don't remember my dreams very often so there's probably a reason for remembering this one. It wasn't the greatest book, in fact I think I wrote it in about 3 hours. It started out as a vampire story, but turned into a shark story. I don't remember much more than that about the actual story other than it involved electric eels. Why do I know that?
I remember my agent telling me that it would never be classified in the correct section. That because I wrote about electric eels it would be filed with electrician books instead of horror. (It made complete sense in my dream)
I designed the cover myself. Painted it and put it all together in about an hour (I wish I worked this fast in real life). Then I thought about overall packaging. For some reason I had the brilliant idea of wrapping it in a t-shirt. (I've been buying a lot of t-shirts online lately) and Voila! finished! Now it just has to be published! I'm wondering if I'll dream about that tonight.
I've been wanting to write a book for a long time. I wonder if this is just an expression of that, or a warning that it will suck.
Well, I had my first sonogram today and good news - I'm not pregnant. I spent a couple of hours out of my day at the urologist. I've had a few minor, annoying problems and now that I have insurance I decided to get them checked out.
The first good news of the day is that my bladder is stretched to twice the size of a normal bladder. I can pee for hours and 5 minutes later do it again. Odd. He decided that he needed to take a look at the inside of my bladder. If a doctor ever says very non-chalantly that he needs to have a look inside your bladder or uses the term "cystoscopy", get up and leave the office, unless you want to meet this guy:
There is only one way into the bladder. Thank god for the little bit of numbing gel that was used. It was a very uncomfortable experience, but made for interesting television watching. And the good (?) news is that he didn't find anything. The bad news is - he doesn't know what's causing the problems.
He prescribed some medication for an enlarged prostrate - even though it seems to be ok. We're now down to process of elimination. I will take the meds and see if it helps. In a month I'll go back to check-in. If that doesn't work, then we're on the path to some slightly more invasive procedures. That has fun written all over it!
As you can see from the picture, it was a very interesting weekend.This picture was taken at the end of a long evening of drinking - probably stating the obvious. I spent a little more time in that casket than I would've liked while I was waiting to surprise some visitors. I was in the mask with the lid closed. It was a very surreal experience, one I'll probably never repeat. I can't describe what it is like laying in a casket listening to people talking in the next room and just waiting. It definitely reinforced my desire to be cremated.
I pretty much drank all day - beer and Smirnoff Ice. After a nap and a sandwich, we decided to hop in the cart and cruise the grounds. Mark and I moved on to Mimosas while Brian stuck with the beer. We arrived at the campfire where most people were hanging out and were offered 100 proof tequila. Of course Mark and I had to have a few shots. The bottle was the size of a beer bottle and we split it with a really nice lesbian.
Once that was gone we headed to Ray and Brad's trailer to find more liquor. We finished off a bottle of Goldschlager, started on Cinnamon Schnapps, refilled our mimosas and headed back to the fire. Later on I topped it off with a couple of Vodka shots while continuing with the mimosas. Needless to say, climbing into a casket was the perfect topper to the evening. Amazingly enough I didn't get sick - it has just taken a couple of days to recover.
I'm just resting up for next weekend - St Patty's day at the ranch!
