“No, don’t kiss me there, I have zit cream on….or there, I just put vasaline on…no not there either, I just used icy hot.”
— Me, to Eric
Then I hid the ring so he couldn’t take it back.
“Oh god. Winter is coming.”
— Eric, seeing the ring of vaseline around my mouth as I got into bed last night.
I’ve been accused of being moody, but I really don’t think it’s too much to ask that everyone stay out of my damn way when I’m PMSing, when it’s Sunday night, when it’s all day Monday, or when it’s winter. The second half of autumn and any high-allergy spring is a risky time as well. Best to stay out of my damn way then, too.
I am absolutely delightful on June 29th.
“There’s an impending snowstorm” is one of my favorite excuses to hibernate all weekend and do nothing but sleep and eat.
Right up there with “I’m a teacher,” “I’m in my 30’s” and “This is just who I am.”
Eric: “Oh god….what IS that?”
Me: “The reason I had to make you fall in love with me before winter.”
I slathered half a jar of vaseline on my face.
I always thought I was really prone to serious headaches, as I seem to have them all the time, but it has just occurred to me that I might be confusing “serious headache” with “being awake.”
Guess I’ll put away my puffy coat and grab my spring trench for the next 10 hours because NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE.
To be clear, the seasonal affective part of me is thrilled with this randomly warm, if only for half a day, weather. But the anxious part of me worries that The Walking Dead is happening for real.
I understand that The Walking Dead has nothing to do with weather. But, like, you get it. The apocalypse. Death to mankind. Widespread chaos and destruction.
I’m not saying I actually believe any of this, I’m just saying that I bought some guns.
Because better safe than sorry and besides, it was SO EASY.
I just walked into the store screaming THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING and the guy behind the counter shrugged his shoulders and sold me 11 semi automatics.
I forgot why I started writing this.
I pull the hood of my puffy coat over my head, whimpering in the cold.
Eric: “There ya go! Warm now?”
Me: “Ugh. No. My eyes are still watering and freezing. I need a hood that covers my ENTIRE face.”
Eric: “That’d be perfect actually.”
Me: “Why? So you don’t have to look at me?”
Eric: “Are you kidding me? I LOVE looking at you!”
Eric: “It’s listening to you that’s hard.”
Tutoring a 5th grader…
Kid: “Do you ever feel sadness?”
I call it “Winter.”
When it happens in the fall, I call it “Mental Health Disorder.”
When it happens in the summer, I call it “Hangover.”
When it happens in the spring, I call it “For The Love of God, WTF Is Wrong With You?! It’s SPRING– WHY AREN’T YOU HAPPY?! You Are The WORST. And Stop Resenting Those Happy People Over There. It’s Not Their Fault They Know How To Enjoy Things While You Feel Dead Inside. For Christ’s Sake, Come On, The Sun Is Out!” (I’ll admit this one could use a nickname).
We’ll call yours “Puberty.”
Regardless, grab a hat, some chocolate (or, ideally– a chocolate hat) and hold the fuck on.
Just a typical run through Central Park on a spring day, passing by this adorable snowman couple holding hands…
And in case you’re in the park later and happen to spot these lovebirds on the 103rd st. transverse, the answer to your question is yes, I am the one who kicked their heads off and stabbed those butcher knives through their torsos.