This post is part of my 2022 Word Project. You can read what that’s about here.
Wednesday, July 5, 2023
6:53pm
Everything is a thing. I want to recover a password and to do that it wants me to enter the last password I remember. I DON’T REMEMBER MY PASSWORD, let alone one that I used before I forgot the password I can’t remember now.
EEEeeeeeeeverything is a thing.
Today was one of those days where every client needed something wholly unique and unexpected, all at the same time on the same day of the same week that I was feeling hopeful was almost over.
It was a Day of Things.
And I’m irritable. Strap in.
Do you know what I wanted to do this evening? Make a mojito. But I couldn’t because the counter was covered in dishes from lunch and there was nowhere to put a lime, let alone cut it. So I was going to wash the dishes. But I COULDN’T because the sink was full of dishes from dinner last night, including the giant greasy fat-soaked pan I used to cook the meatloaf. So I was going to wash THAT but guess what? I couldn’t. Because the entire counter and drain board was full of the dishes I just washed from breakfast.
So I was going to dry the dishes to make room for the giant pan except I COULDN’T because the towel was in the dryer. So I went to get it out of the dryer except you want to guess what? If you said I couldn’t, you get all the prizes. Because a big box of recycling was sitting in front of the laundry room door, with nowhere to go since the entire space around it is an explosion of the stuff I took out of the closet in an effort to “organize”.
So I was going to take out the recycling except… who am I kidding, I’m not walking outside.
Instead, I kicked it over and got the towel to dry the dishes to make space to put the pan to wash the dishes to clear the counter, all to juice some lime.
AND THEN I MADE MORE DISHES.
On a rant.
The thing with irritation is it’s never just one thing. Irritations are chained together in a loop that ultimately just strangles you to death or else you sit down with your one clean glass and a bottle of bourbon and call it a night.
Truthfully, I don’t even need a clean glass. I’ll drink it out of a jar or a Tupperware if I have to.
And I haven’t even managed to make dinner yet because that only means
1. something will end up on the floor
2. when I try to get ice for my tea it will shoot across the room instead of into my glass
3. the one pot I need will be behind everything else in the cabinet and require another 12-step maneuver to extract it
4. and there will be more dishes
So I think I’ll sit here and pout for a while.
Irritation is like an outrage hangover. I had a bout of outrage over a really dumb article I read. It would take another thousand words to describe it, and the contents aren’t important. Once in a while some Stupid Person says a Stupid Thing and it strikes me in just the wrong way. So I did a little huffing and puffing, then wore myself out and played a little solitaire.
I don’t like getting outraged. It’s a rather futile emotion, solves nothing, and inevitably leaves me feeling exhausted and irritable.
And then some website wants me to remember a password and it all falls apart from there.
So today you’re going to have to settle for a complaint and tomorrow I will be back with something more cheerful and fun, because even emotional hangovers pass. And a fresh mojito always helps.
Photo: my irritable face, which also doubles as my someone-took-a-picture-when-I-wasn’t-ready face. Coincidentally, from last year’s fireworks show.