I’m probably more like that chicken who lived with no head for 18 months than like a person in charge of other people’s lives.
I am at my most vulnerable when things that are supposed to work, stop working. Because I live day-to-day in perpetual sameness, having something go awry will throw me into a tailspin of frenzied abandon for days.
Days.
For the next 5 days, I will constantly be reminded of the time today when I had no internet at my house for 3 hours.
Three. Hours.
Those three hours taken away from me, taken away from my routine, will haunt me until probably the beginning of December. It goes without saying that the rest of this week is shot because tomorrow is chock-full of out-of-sync meetings, appointments, and dinners, then on Friday I’m volunteering in Claire’s classroom.
I would have given any cable technician a hummer if one appeared at my door 20 minutes into Broken Internet of 2011.
I haven’t always been this way. Or maybe I have, and I just didn’t realize it. I used to think of myself as being very loosey goosey with my time and plans. I was a “Whatever goes!” kind of girl who could roll with whatever came my way. Being that way was so much more freeing to my ego. Or maybe that’s why I started having anxiety attacks at 9 years old.
Holy shit. I think I’m my own Dr. Phil episode.
Add in a dissected bowel, a one-pot meal cooking segment, and Rosie O’Donnell, and I’m a walking Oprah talk show spinoff.
“On this episode, we meet Angie, a discombobulated mess of a woman who can’t seem to find a way to jump right back in to her responsibilities when one small hiccup is thrown in her plans. Also today, PANCAKES!”
I seriously need to get my First World Problems in check. My skills and abilities fall outside of spouting opinions on TV scheduling and finding insanely Awesome stuff on the internet. Somehow, I need to figure out how to funnel those abilities into a focused skill set that won’t throw me off my rocker.
I’m pretty sure I’ve found my calling: stripping.
No wait, they have to work nights.
My life’s calling really is Life Coaching!
But that’s not a real thing.
OK, I’ve got it: surrogacy.
I just need to find a family who wouldn’t mind a baby born of a birth mother with a $2 Sangria problem. Mama can’t give up a deal on citrus-infused wine.
