The American Lit test didn’t happen yesterday. The instructor, Mr. Extremely Irish Guy (only without the accent, how disappointing) has his own troubles and didn’t show. As annoyed as I was, I also recognize that I’m not the center of the universe, no matter how hard I try. Another instructor noticed I’d been sitting there for an hour, and asked a couple of questions, then explained the situation. Even in my self-imposed funk I could understand, and went home. That’s when the Pity Party started, on the way home. It was quite the thing, too. Tears and all. I just knew that sheriff’s deputy who’s always coming over the bend on Cypress Lake Road would choose today to pick on me for not coming to a complete stop at the intersection. I wanted him to. I wanted to make him very uncomfortable with my emotional upheaval. It needed to be shared, with extreme prejudice.
Anyway, I didn’t feel up to driving to the liquor store for rum, so concocted a lemony sort of thing with limoncello, citrus vodka, and club soda. It wasn’t as good as it sounds and didn’t seem to mix well with the leftovers I warmed up for supper. (roasted chicken, Israeli couscous with herbs, and squash casserole. Even my leftovers sound impressive.) They were an improvement on the disappointing lunch but still not really the mood-improving food I probably needed. #4, bless him, recognized I was having issues (probably after I yelled at him via text message that NO I DON’T WANT TO DRIVE ALL THE WAY INTO TOWN TO DEPOSIT HIS PAYCHECK FOR HIM BEFORE THE BANK CLOSED WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS NEED ME TO DO STUFF WHEN IS SOMEONE GOING TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME FOR A CHANGE GET OFF MY BACK AND LEAVE ME ALONE.) He works at a local BBQ place that has stellar fried chicken and he knows how much I love it. He offered to have some hot and ready for me if I wanted to come get it. I thanked him but no, the idea of driving someplace that wasn’t home was exhausting. He proceeded to check on me every 45 minutes or so with a text message *hug*.
After watching an episode of House of Cards, where Claire backstabs the heck out of Frank (again) and the creepy Chief of Staff does yet another creepy thing, I decided 8:00 was late enough for bed, even though the sun is still up and the dogs look at me with the stink-eye. A bit of reading about someone else’s problems (don’t really remember what, but a box, a baby, and someone named The Taliban Spy were involved) I went to sleep. I heard David’s dog (dog sitting while he and The Girlfriend He Need To Marry went to Six-Flags) skittering around- she has long legs and trouble with my slick floors- and figured he was picking her up. Since she isn’t here now (6:15 in the a.m. because the other dogs, having been put to bed at 8 p.m., were barking about their need for water and a pee at 5 a.m.), I am assuming that’s what all the noise was about.
I’m still kind of in a mental funk. Even after a cup of excellent coffee (Ethiopian medium roast, thanks to a friend who knows me well), I’m feeling sad and heavy-in-the-head, and since the limoncello-and-vodka drink last night was disappointing enough that I didn’t finish it, I know it’s not that. I’m supposed to meet with other women for my weekly prayer-group at 12. Himself would say I really need it today. Apparently when I don’t want to is a sign that I most need to. However, I also feel like one word, one sideways look or “how are you doing today” would send me over the age into sobbing incoherency and that would be embarrassing in the extreme. Public Displays of Emotion are more difficult than the emotion itself. Even though a group of 4-ish women who have seen me through misbehaving children and dying husbands, and with whom I’ve seen them in similar circumstances isn’t exactly Public and it doesn’t bother me one bit when they cry.
I have the Am Lit exam at 10…did I say that already? The circumstance which caused me to take exams early is holding steady so far, thus taking it today shouldn’t be a problem. I have to put on my Smilin’ Rootietoot hat for a while, and tuck My Life underneath so it isn’t out there for the world to see, and take that exam all about the philosophies of American Literature from Puritanism to Whatever Flannery O’Conner Would Be. I can do this, because I am the Queen of Compartmentalization. Once this exam is through, I have one more discussion post to make, something about Alice Walker, then I will be done with the semester and have 2 weeks to turn the thinking brain off and use the Visiting Relatives lobe a couple of times. Also maybe the Weeding The Sad Ignored Garden…not sure what I was thinking there, but apparently vegetable gardens and full-time schooling are incompatible in my world. I’m going to try again and see if there’s enough time to attempt some squash before it turns into Fall around here.