I’m in one of those modes again where I don’t feel like doing anything.
Well, I should be more specific.
I feel like doing lots of things. I feel like playing video games, eating junk food, taking lots of naps, buying things online that I may not even use in the next three months, and holding long conversations with my cats. I’m also farting more than usual. I don’t know what that’s about. And I’m doing all of these things – while avoiding the absolutely monstrous and ever-growing to do list.
All the things on my to do list are “adult” things. And adult things are icky.
Adult things like dishes, not adult things like porn.
Anyway I have a lot of things to do and instead of paying them any mind, I am wrapping myself in cozy blankets when I come home from work and talking to my cats until I pass out with my hand still lodged in a bag of generic cheesy poofs. I’m finding it difficult to get on top of things with this ritual. Perhaps I should explain how I got here.
You see, several weeks ago I had reached a sort of Jackie Critical Mass. Every day I was pelted with some new and hugely stressful thing and though I’m usually really good in those sort of scenarios, I really just couldn’t catch a break. And I sort of went to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms.
Don’t freak out. I know I don’t usually talk about anything but video games, Lollipop Tuesdays, cats, and social awkwardness, so you might feel somewhat uncomfortable right now. If so, go up and read the part about my cats again, who have been mentioned twice in less than 300 words. Breathe. Come back when you’re ready.
Anyway, I didn’t have a stroke. They ran lots of tests and took lots of blood and affirmed that I had a severe case of Stressed-the-Hell-Out. I guess that isn’t the technical term for it but it should be. After much arguing and a lot of harassment, I took time off from work to try to mellow out and not die. I know it seems like a great excuse to get out of work, but I don’t often go to the doctor and when I do, I don’t often believe them. Not going to work because I’m ‘overly stressed’ sounds pretty stupid to me. Besides, if I have to use vacation time, I want to use it to go places and do things. I don’t want to spend it sitting around. So I tried to come in to work the following day but was instantly sent home because apparently they were serious when they told me not to come in. I returned to my humble abode and spent most of it cleaning my apartment and catching up on all the things I was too busy to be able to do while I was at work.
After two days of that, Dave whipped me into submission and I was forced to coddle myself. I painted my toenails, I played video games, I browsed Pinterest; I was a waste of human flesh. I actively said no to extra responsibilities, unwanted tasks, and things I usually do out of obligation. I kept wading through the to do list and pushed everything off my figurative plate until it was squeaky clean and I could hear myself think again.
And that’s where I stayed. For the past several weeks I’ve just been hovering in a state of aggressive relaxation. It took a really long time to get here and now that I’ve practice saying no to lots of things and have taken such a liking to it that I fear I may never contribute to society again. Every day I wake up a few minutes later, every day I convince myself a little more that I shouldn’t go in to work ever again, and every day I’m more at risk for showing up at the desk of a social worker, unwashed and jobless – babbling something about the day everything changed.
I suppose I’ve been in denial for a bit so we can go ahead and call this very public admission of guilt the second step to recovery: I have milked my relaxation far too long and am now simply a lazy, non-contributor of a human being.
Okay, there it is. I wrote it loud and proud. That counts as acceptance. I have to talk myself through this because as far as I know, there are no Lazy Slugs Anonymous groups in my area. That, and in my state of perpetual do-nothingness, I had no contributions for today’s post and was forced to write the truth.
Now it’s time to get back on the trolley. I’m pretty sure if I don’t get any sleep until Sunday, I can clear out the massive amount of junk that has acquired during my hiatus. That’s probably a good way to have a stroke though. Maybe I’ll just take it one step at a time. Getting my hand out of the bag of cheesy poofs to write this blog post was a good first one.
And hey: for the last several weeks I’ve been posting my weekly post at the end of the day it is due instead of the beginning (how nice of you all to not mention anything). But looky there: today I’m bright and early!
Maybe the winds are changing.
This is Larva, signing off. ♣