smells like wet dog in here

It has been crazy weather round these parts lately.  Thank you, Hurricane Alex… we now have a healthy appreciation of even the far-reaching crumbs of your cyclone of fury.  Even though we are located some 3,200 feet above sea level and the closest beach is more than 600 miles away; you were right to punish us as we would not have gained the same respect for you just watching from afar.  Because, quite honestly, we are accustomed to the month of July being hot. Just hot and dry, please.  We enjoy the sizzle…but thank you for screwing up numerous cookouts, days at the lake, sporting events, and outdoor concerts.  Fourth of July was a total wash-out this year.  It’s starting to get depressing actually.  Almost two weeks now of sloshing around in different types of precipitation. Remember how Forrest Gump was in Vee-Et-Nammm during the rainy season?  He said in a letter to his Jen-nay, “One day it started raining, and it didn’t quit for four months. We been through every kind of rain there is. Little bitty stingin’ rain… and big ol’ fat rain. Rain that flew in sideways. And sometimes rain even seemed to come straight up from underneath. Shoot, it even rained at night..”.

So after all these days of attempting to maintain a normal life DESPITE the rain, while hating the rain and shaking our collective fists at the sky…days of wondering how those in Seattle don’t end up hanging themselves- how do they HANDLE this?….days of getting wet outside and then coming into an air conditioned room only to end up getting chilled…days of letting in a dog that’s mud-soaked and smells exactly like a wet dog…flooded streets, chill bumps, and wet shoes… I’m just OVER it, ok?  Enough, already! It’s just downright miserable to those of us prone to slight depression when denied our normal daily sunlight allowances.  

All the fluctuations in the weather have started to make everyone sick.  The humidity is causing all kinds of bronchial distress and general immune-system havoc. We simply aren’t used to moisture…it freaks our systems out. I started feeling bad last night- more like a cold than anything…and woke up this morning with the most fierce case of Kubler-Ross Internal Struggle EVER.  I got stuck in the Bargaining Phase and stayed there for almost thirty minutes.  Really, really wanted to stay home…but didn’t feel quite bad enough to justify it.  Finally decided half-heartedly to come in to work as normal, and just try and slug it out.  A few hours ago, I found some Dayquil in my purse: long expired but still safe in its protective casing that takes two people, one pocketknife with nail clipper attachment, brute strength, a can opener, a determined will, and finally- your own TEETH to get open. Not sure if it’s the packaging or the sheer SIZE of the pills themselves that frustrates me more…You wanna feel better? And by ‘better’ we mean “bare-bones-functioning-in-a-medicinal-fog-to-keep-you-walking-through-your-day-medicine”….if so, then take the highly recommended Horse Pill size.  These liquid-gels are indeed fast acting- but when our throats are already kind of swollen and sore- they are a challenge to swallow with even a modicum of decorum.  They tend to travel sideways down the entire esophagus…but honestly, I have a slight “issue” with swallowing pills anyway.  Took chewable baby aspirin until I was about 12.  At that point, the recommended dosage is upwards of 8 chewable pills.  I think my parents actually just got tired of buying more after every third headache because they only came in ‘baby’ size bottles of 24. I finally became a self-taught pill-swallower. It took months of practicing with my remaining soggy cocoa-puffs after eating cereal in the mornings, but by-golly…I learned how.  Sorta.

So, here I am, at 35 years old- having to psyche myself up mentally to get these pills down. I took the first one- made me gag and stuff.  Took a minute to shake it off…because it makes one *shudder* when gagging happens. I REALLY tried to keep my cool with the second one. I kept thinking, “Mind over matter, mind over matter,”…and wished my throat to behave, but nay.  I gagged even worse on that one, and made this horrible involuntary throat noise.  It sounded like preliminary puke.  There were two co-workers standing nearby.  I started laughing so hard that tears ran out of the corners of my eyes.  They both involuntarily gagged too…it’s a chain reaction, you see.  Would’ve been funnier if someone HAD actually yakked…but we all got over it pretty quick.  I keep reliving the yak-noise; which made me laugh again and again.  It’s the sound that keeps on giving.

Today the sun is out.  (*GASP*) Everyone is waiting with bated breath to see if the clouds will actually stay away, and hope beyond hope that we might possibly go a whole day without experiencing rain.  Its touch and go at this point. But I have to say that rain affects way more than the streets and playa lakes around here.  More than people furiously looking to see if their homeowners insurance includes flood protection.  Rain makes people sad.  Makes them grumpy.  The bloody inconvenience of it all slows everything down to a surly crawl.  Makes us all sick when we are forced to simmer in this blasted foreign humidity and steaminess.  There are spores in the air that our desert-loving lungs just aren’t used to.  My sonic cups that are Styrofoam actually have condensation on them.  And that’s just WRONG.  I hate sweaty cups. I purposefully seek out places that USE Styrofoam for that reason alone.  ( …apologies to all the greenie-environmentalists out there. I’m a selfish consumer…I admit it.) But I have to say that the most entertainment I’ve gotten out of the whole soggy mess is watching the children enjoy it.  Because at the very least…the rain makes THEM happy, and I would be wise to take a lesson from their inventiveness and ‘just go with it’ attitude.  I should quit all this complaining. Just look how happy she is.

very kubler ross

No one likes it when you speak in absolutes.  I tell my daughter all the time, “You don’t ALWAYS do something.” and “Don’t say ‘NEVER’, because sometimes you do.”  For those of us who are literal-minded, it’s aggravating to the core to hear others use the words ‘always’ and ‘never’ carelessly; so I try to use ‘sometimes’ or ‘most of the time’ to make my absolutes more credible when I DO use them.  As for speaking in generalities, I try to identify them as such with a preemptive disclaimer.

So believe me when I say that my entire life I have periodically wondered- has there EVER been a morning when I wanted to get up?  Has there ever been EVEN ONE freakin morning that I was excited, rested, and ready to hop out of bed?  I’ve thought about it. Pondered it. Really reached into the recesses of memory to give this question a fair shake.  And after careful, deliberate and honest consideration, the resounding answer always has been, and continues to be: Nope. Never.  Not once. Not on a birthday, not after sleeping 12 hours, and not to get up to catch a plane for Vegas.  Not on Christmas and not seaside in the Caribbean. There has yet come a day that I didn’t just squint, glare and slap at the alarm clock and try to think of a reason to call in.  Every single work and school day of my life, I have pondered calling in for at least an average of three minutes while mentally straddling that chasm between sleep and wakefulness. Doesn’t matter if it’s a weekend or a weekday.  Doesn’t matter what exciting things I have planned.  Doesn’t matter if I wake up late or early or exactly when I planned to- I absolutely never ever have the desire to get up.

But despite the daily internal struggle, I have learned to just trust the process. Upon reflection I have discovered that it’s very “Kubler-Ross” in design. (the five stages of grieving, which is apropos in itself, as each day that I am forced out of my warm cocoon of sleep is like dying a tiny little death every day.. 😉

• Denial

Obviously, I’m in total shock that the alarm is already going off. It CANT be. I just closed my eyes.  There is absolutely no friggin way I have to get up now.  I’m not. (Hits snooze, rolls over to face the wall)

• Anger

I frequently alternate between different alarm sounds. This is due to an auditory tolerance, or the subconscious “dontwanttos” getting the better of me; which causes me to sleep right through a familiar alarm sound. Therefore to ensure that I am not late, I change the sound every 2-3 days to something different.  No matter what that sound IS, though… be it pretty church bells or soothing ocean waves… it still pisses me off. It’s still annoying as all hell. I become filled with rage, despite lying comatose and refusing to give in by squeezing my eyes shut ever tighter. Every time it goes off, and every time I blindly bat at the snooze button, I get more and more angry- because like it or not, morning is happening.

• Bargaining

There are two definite sub-stages here…and one always immediately follows the other. The first is the aforementioned pondering wherein I waffle back and forth about any possible (imagined) sickness or some other appalling inability to go to work.  After a few rounds of this, I realize that it’s tacky to call in sick or tragically disabled when you really have no legitimate excuse to stay home.  At this point, the second stage of bargaining kicks in and it then becomes a game of trading bits and pieces of required-getting-ready-time for extra sleeping time… “How long will it take me to get ready if I skip such and such?”  we will use examples like ironing and eating breakfast because the real things like showers, shaving legs, letting hair go one more day than it should without washing….these things are just gross.

• Depression

Kind of self-explanatory. It’s a sad, sad time in our lives when no one lets us sleep all day.  It’s sad when responsibilities and obligations require those of us with a moral code to get up and take care of business.  Why can’t I just flake out and stay right here? Why do I have to go ANYwhere? Who made these rules? These rules just aren’t fair.  Sometimes, a tear will escape… marking the pillow for those poor unfortunate souls who are not permitted to follow their desire for immediate gratification.

• Acceptance

With an exaggerated sigh, and a flinging back of the covers in a petulant fashion, she gets up. Heads straight for the coffay.  You would be wise not to speak or look directly at her until at least fifteen more minutes have passed.  She’s out of bed, but not happy about it.