I wake to the sounds of Our Miss Brooks playing through earphones I’ve had stuck into my ears all night long. Sleep used to be a nightmare but now it’s a 1940’s radio sitcom starring Eve Arden. It seems I am recklessly drawn to the sense of humor of women with the last name Arden, especially in the dead of the night.
The bathroom off the master bedroom is under construction, or should I say re-construction. Actually this is more accurately described by the word “renovation”. I could use some renovating myself. In the last two months my mood has slid progressively into the dark. I am at risk, but just stating that makes me feel lighter. I will never be one of those people who you just know are doing well. I don’t do “well” very well. I see a red door and I want to paint it black. Step right up and witness for yourself the ramblings of an insane person.
My mother’s birthday party last night…she is seventy going on forty-five. (I never said anything about building entire sentences). I started off miserable but I decided to fix all that with wine. Wine can fix me when I am this broken. Wine can cure me...momentarily. I have not had anything to drink in months…but last night I just wanted to be fixed. Too bad it doesn’t last. If only I could just be permanently the way I am after one or two glasses of wine.
I need something but what? I hear they are doing wonderful things with brain transplants these days. “Everybody has a brain…except some people.”
And so a whole new friggin' day begins, with the inner critic…the big fat loser.
