It was a snarky day. Holy cow.
I. Was. Snarky.
Bitchy, really. If I am honest. Flat out bitchy. Baking the Strawberry Oatmeal bread with walnuts could not diminish my bitchiness. Granted, I did not bake the bread as an offering or consolation for the bitchitude but I was atrocious, none-the-less.
I like that word: Bitchitude.
I have been in a state of Bitchitude since the election. I love my friends (and family and lover) that voted in opposition to me. I do. I love them. And I hear their hearts. I hear their fears and anger. I hear their fury.
Do they hear mine?
I am afraid. Of this President. Of his Cabinet. Did he say what he really meant or was it all wishy washy? Wishy washy falls in my favor. Wishy washy (should) infuriate my peeps that voted for him. Are they furious? Did they see the Cabinet? Did they see the “flip flop”? Flip flops were once the bane of Conservatism. Never a flip flopper be!
And today was just brutal. And it had nothing (or very little) to do with the election fall out. It is just reality. Reality. It sucks. And I want a reprieve. Or. I want a Fairy Godmother that cleans my house and reads the documents from the bank and picks up the dry cleaning and plans dinners and remembers the pest control guy was coming today. And pays the cell phone bill and makes diner while I get a bit toasted (instead of me getting toasted while I am cooking).
I need brain space to write. I need time to create. I am thankful for the Facebook post from Eva about hip hop and ballet. Beautiful. Lovely. Amazing. Perfection. I am thankful for the perfectly fried potatoes. I am thankful for my house(which is really a HOME) and my sanctuary within its walls. I love Audible (once I figure out stupid iTunes and get the shit downloaded properly). I love lunch with my mentor even though 20 minutes before she showed up I was a raging madman (see Bitchitude reference). I am grateful. I believe life is good. Very good. But I am still sad even though my cat got killed by (likely) my own dog. My beloved Big Fat Girl, Caprica, is dead. Writing this makes me cry. I miss her.
The other cat has blossomed. What is that? Dagney is more friendly, she is eating. She is NOT barfing. She talks and purrs. And snuggles. WTH?
And I miss my boyfriend (stupid word for 50 year olds)… I miss him. He is off in Spokane. With snow and wine and friends. And I have to work. Reality. It sucks. And thus….the snarky bitchitude.
So, I came home and CLEANED. Am I insane? I am insane! I cleaned. I feel better. Then I made cocktails. And I felt even better. OCD rituals and alcohol. Perfection! And now it is time for bed.
Good night. It is a good night.