Cranky Is The New Perky

And holding your breath.

When I was in high school, I used to take mental health days when things just got too much and I couldn’t deal with people or the world anymore. Not only did I go to a very rigorous high school, but there was all the attendant drama and strain of being me as a teenager. I would plead illness, usually stomach related as I have learned that no one will argue with you if you are vomiting, and spend the day at home, house to myself, reading and watching bad TV (and in the 80’s pre-cable it was pretty bad) and mooning around.
I had the strongest urge to do the same today. I am uncharacteristically exhausted, fighting a bad tooth that needs a root canal and a crown but has to be delayed as the dentist wants his pound of flesh upfront, and it is the last day that all three boys will be safely locked up at school. I have this fascinating new book which is like junk food for a hungry mind – “Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging” by Janice Dennison. I would like nothing more than to lay in the king size bed with the dogs (who would have to be lifted up), watch the Style Channel or CSI, and read, with an occasional throwing in of laundry as a nod to my domestic responsibilities.
I made the terrifying and major decision to go to nursing school full time and gave my 8 week notice last week. The thought of leaving my full time job caused me to hyperventilate and search for a paper bag (all I could find was plastic). Not only have I worked hard to get to this point, even taking Algebra and Chemistry, the bete noires of my youth, again and conquering them. The thought of staying in my job from which there is no promotion fills me with a greater dread. Another year of this and I would be putting my head in the (electric) oven.
It will make for interesting blog posts – going back to school at 42, the gothic and bloody possibilities of nursing education, and hopefully new inspiration for my cobweb laden mind.
The job announcement went up this afternoon. You know how you dump someone, and they start dating someone and you feel a twinge, even though you don’t want them back? I don’t want it, but I don’t want anyone else to have it either. A friend remarked that the only thing more wistful is training your replacement. I will be doing that and moving back into the unventilated closet where I spent the last 3 and a half years.
To beat the metaphor to death, reading the job posting was like reading your exes singles ad – unrecognizable and none of the bad aspects were mentioned. And what they are looking for – I don’t recognize myself at all. Oh. Probably for the best then – they need someone who is slavishly devoted, doesn’t have the yearn for something more and has no wandering eye.

            

3 Responses to “Swimming underwater….”