As some of my peeps already know, today marked a rather unpleasant anniversary for me. The kind of anniversary that doesn't warrant a reminder, because you start experiencing weird memory sense symptoms of anxiety and nervousness days prior, along with the kind of dreams that wake you with a start at the crack of dawn, leaving behind a heavy sensation of regret and loss because it just felt so frickin' real moments ago, and yet, was all in your damnable head.
That's why being employed rocks. In addition to that nifty thing called a paycheck that buys me cool junk (and keeps the electricity on), it provides an occupation to keep me one busy little bee. So busy that I actually, dare I say it, forgot to participate in the obligatory moaning and wailing and tearing of hair to a backdrop of Mozart's Requiem on a day like today...which does cause me to harbor a biteen of guilt for not carrying on in ceremonial hysterics, but is mostly an incredibly, understandable relief. The compromise being that though the bolded numbers 2 and 5 glared back at me from my desktop calendar throughout the day, I sorta kinda maybe felt that I'll finally be ok, at least in a way that allowed me to focus on the tasks at hand and managed my work with ease. So much ease, in fact, that upon returning home I settled in for a rather pleasant evening of a little wine, a sandwich and Netflix's latest delivery of the Queer as Folk series.
Of course, it would have to be the Season 4, Episode 6 disc that I watched.
I'll spare the spoilers for the eagerly-anticipating-uninitiated, but I know at least a few of you out there know of which particular episode I speak.
*emo tear*
Curse you TV for making me feel stuff and have empathetic emotions! What happened to the schmoop, and the snark, and the hot man-on-man action?! You had to get all serious (again) now? Of all days?! Jeez! Lame melodrama lameness!
Don't worry. I'm quite all right. Nothing a little healthy cry and a toast of 12-year-old single malt Scotch couldn't cure.
But Mom, as dear as I hold you in my heart, and as much effort as I make to honor your memory, there is no way in hell I'm mixing good Scotch with water. Seriously, I can't do it...but you already knew that didn't you? :)
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1 comment:
I'm pretty sure I recall the episode of which you speak, what crappy timing. Glad to hear you're doing allright, and that The Scotch remains unadulterated.
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