I was feeling kinda down yesterday. Sort of picked on and unappreciated and all that other mother type stuff. Everyone needs, needs, needs and somehow what they need involves me almost always. Haircuts. Mended clothing. Food. (for crying out loud, forge for yourselves kids! You can do it!) groceries (ok, I said forge, I did NOT say in the fridge, there is a whole wide world out there. The Squirrels are doing dandy so apparently there is plenty of food. In fact I think I saw one hiding some in that planter over there so that would be a good place to start. Pretend it’s like an Easter Egg Hunt.) money, laundry, fed pets, information, reservations. Goodness. So I was kinda dragging and I was pissed at CVS because they exist to piss me off. CVS, Trump, Walmart and my printer. They are all in a giant conspiracy.
(obviously I am not the only disgruntled customer with a blow torch. However, I only threaten in jest. This person actually set the damn store on fire. Doesn’t he realize he will NEVER get his perscription filled now?)
Actually, it makes sense as I write it….CVS and Walmart both sell what I need when I am stressed. Candy, fabric, yarn and drugs. And Wine. So they make money off my irritation and Trump, he is just a pawn in their sick game to try to drive me over the edge. It’s nothing personal, just business….but CVS never, ever has what I need. Ever. I will get to that later.
So I am all pissed off at CVS and feeling like I should kick something, but honestly if I kick something I will hurt myself as I rarely wear shoes. So I settled for writing in my journal which is also known as my “I hate the world and everything in it” book. I never have to worry about Brian reading it because he flat-out does NOT want to know. The kids won’t read it either because it’s in script and they can’t read script. Except Eve but I think she has better things to read and also because if she is ever called to testify against me in my trial it’s better she not have that information and she knows this. Unless she becomes a lawyer. Or a priest. Either one of those and she is safe, she won’t have to testify. But just to be safe – she won’t read it. Plus there is a lot of unnecessary swearing and a lot of complaining and damning people to hell. Mostly CVS and all of the employees. Except this one kid that I think is named Josh. He is super cute and has freckles and found my pictures when they were among the missing for 6 weeks.
So I was writing and being angry, but quietly angry about the injustice of my little Shannon world. The world with air conditioning and beds and lights and food and quilts and everything I could ever want or need to survive and then much, much more because really, I am a middle class middle-aged (almost) white woman living in Florida. What do I REALLY have to feel bad about? Other than trivial stuff like CVS not having my pills and me having to make another trip. Now and forever, because I get two doses of the same medication as I take it twice a day…a lower dose in the afternoon….and they didn’t have one of the strengths. So I had to wait a week, while not taking the afternoon pills, and go back and get them because apparently someone doesn’t understand how to order the correct amount of things or inventory control and trust me, I know of what I speak, and now they will forever have to be filled a week apart – because CVS hates me and seeks to make my filling of medication for my mental health as detrimental to my mental health as humanly possible and if Publix took my insurance I would switch over in a half a heart beat. I LOVE PUBLIX. So not only did I have to go back a week later and argue about how their ineptitude and inability to ever fucking have the right dosage of the right medication in stock (every fucking month. There is something every FUCKING month. Either they are out of mine and I have to go to two stores, or they are out of Gabrielle’s and I have to go to three stores or they lost the refill or they can’t have the refill filled before closing (seriously. Gabrielle’s medication is brand name. They do NOTHING but put a sticker on a bottle. I realize that there are other customers and all, but when they are the dip shits that lost the refill in the FIRST PLACE do ya think you could maybe slap a sticker on that baby and in the THREE FUCKING HOURS before closing maybe have it ready? Ya think? no.) Then there was the time I tried to fill a script at a CVS near my doctor instead of the one on the corner near me that is a death trap to get into or out of and the girl mentioned that she noticed I was from NY. And I thought about that for a moment and asked how she noticed that and then she read me my NYC address that is NOT my NYC address as I don’t HAVE a NYC address. This was the person she was going to fill my script for. Not even the same damn name. Or doctor, Or anything, I have no clue why she thought I was this person or what would have happened if they actually had the drug in stock because SHOCKER they didn’t and 15 minutes and a mistaken identity later I still didn’t have my pills and I still wanted to set the place on fire. I have been known to actually ask the pharmacy staff if they realize that this is the medication – the medication that they don’t have. AGAIN – that keeps me from killing people. God and my kids as my witness (Eve avoids going to CVS with me if she can because of that and the fact that I walk out of there ranting every single time.) I digress. I have to read back and see where this went off the rails. Please hold. OH yes, my Shannon world where I was feeling unjustly persecuted and ill-treated by everyone. Animals, children, giant corporations, Brian, my sewing machine, etc. (I realize and I realized it then that I was having a pity party which is why I tried to have a pity party by myself in my room with my journal when Brian came in and complained that I should help more around the house. Help? HELP? I run the fucking house. And that’s when I started drinking.
Emails were sent. To CVS actually. Not my most articulate or well written letter of complaint, but it had the bullet points. I wish I had a copy of the letter because it was summed up in 1000 characters how much I hated that company and everyone in it.
To Brian pointing out that it was 2 am and I had 2000 steps on my little step tracker because he pissed me off and drove me to drink and so I felt I needed to detail all that I did during those 2000 steps in the middle of the night that he would not otherwise notice because apparently I don’t help enough around the house unless I mow the damn lawn for him or something. Dusting, mopping, laundry, grocery shopping, feeding Gabs, cleaning litter boxes…. Those don’t count because they are not noticed unless they are not done. So I sent him an itemized list of what I Had done for the previous 4 hours while he was asleep.
To Brian’s brother Jason. I don’t remember what I said and frankly I am afraid to look and see what I said because I suspect it wasn’t very nice. Not so much because I was being mean, but because I was being honest.
I should have totally have written congress while I was on a roll. Damn it.
So the point of this all, this long, rambling rant full of self-pity and vitriol (that is a great word. vitriol. and perfect.) is that I have nothing to be upset about really other than the fact that I am apparently fairly self-important and expect people to do their jobs correctly (silly, silly Shannon) and that I expect the people around the house not to ask what I can do for them but rather to ask what they can do for me (now that is just CRAZY talk). – where was I even going with this?- oh yes, the point is I realize that I am very lucky and blessed and that I was having an off day and it was probably PMS and all. I also know that after one of those off days where I am feeling sort of bad about myself and life and all that I get all sorts of sassy and spunky and well, full of piss and vinegar as my grandmother would have said. (Yesterday she would have said I looked like I bit the ass out of a skunk. Today would be piss and vinegar. ) and all empowered and such. So great things my happen here in Shannon Land. The land of the Lair. Or terrible things. Or great and terrible things like the wizard of Oz. I guess it depends on your point of view. Much of what I consider great Brian considers terrible. Anyhow, I Had my monthly bitch fest, my pity party, my poor me moment and got it out of my system, stayed up all night cleaning and documenting the cleaning for those in the house that are unaware of the significant contribution that I make to their lives and now I am both tired and wired and shit may get made. Or broken. Both. I’m not sure what order.
So buckle up folks. It may be one hell of a ride.