dim and doofy

I am exhausted, and nodding off right now, after midnight on Sunday night. I’d like to tell you
it’s because I’ve had such a brilliantly productive weekend, in which I
accomplished every single item I had outlined in careful detail on my
gorgeously thorough, wonderfully organized to-do list. However, that would be a
lie. Starting with the existence of the to-do list, and going all the way
through the actual act of accomplishment, and finishing up with the hilarity of
the idea of me being thorough or wonderfully organized. Ha! Ha! Ha.

Actually, I’m being hard on myself (Really? Astonishing! So
unusual! Wonders may never cease!), because I actually did okay this weekend. I
failed on finishing the to-do list, and my entire house is not
so perfectly packed, labeled, and ready to go that, 11 days from now when we pull the moving
van up to the garage, it will practically float its way
into the truck and into optimal position, vis à vis all the other boxes that
need to fit.

No, no, I know I wasn’t supposed to finish everything this
weekend, and that I have plenty of time and in many instances (for instance, my
kitchen utensils; shower curtain; underpants) it is kind of dumb to be packing
so early and with any kind of thoroughness. But I have expectations, and among
my expectations was that things would be so on track that my panicking would
cease and the next little while would be a worry-free breeze, absent of tiny
anxiety attacks and full of long, leisurely, late brunches full of imported sausages,
Columbian coffee, and carefree laughter. God, I want to stop worrying.

Maybe reminding myself that I had a good weekend in which I
have accomplished things and have made a pretty good start on the packing will
be useful and helpful. Hey! You know what you did? You did a crapload of
freelance work, you got to see K.T., and you’ve got a kitchen that is more or
less purged of things you’re not keeping and at the ready to be tumbled into
boxes as soon as the moon is full and the signal is given up over the trees. In
other words, you had a good weekend! You’ve made a pretty good start on the
packing! Thumbs up and the business! Also, you are very pretty and nice.

And still, I feel like I wasted my weekend. Going over to
see K.T. and Bri and play Wii? Not a waste. Digging through my cabinet where
time was forgotten and God died, to sort out all the homeless cords and cables
and to discover that I own, for no particularly good reason, five boxes of
regular light bulbs, and two boxes of energy efficient ones? Awesome. I found my
electric drill! I tossed a 1,000-year-old bottle of garlic powder. I
shattered a wine glass that I’m pretty sure I wasn’t going to pack anyway,
because my glassware is kind of cheap and fragile and not really worth
bringing! These are accomplishments, and I need to just go ahead and be quiet.
My gut, all churny and rumbly and full of scardycatness, is not
worth listening to. Quiet calm and logic, that is worth listening to.

I’m not sure I can take the next week and a half full of
trying to batter my terror silent with calm and quiet logic, though. I have
already got enough going on—I have to add talking myself into not losing my
mind completely? And having to talk to myself as if I were whispering quietly
to a kitten who has been treed and refuses to come down for the nice fireman, I
think maybe that suggests I have already lost my mind completely, and where does
the cycle end? You have no idea how tempted I was to put that in all caps, with
many, many question marks and exclamation points. Comedy! Tragedy.

I think right now, this particular second where everything
looks hard and I look so dumb (and am fully aware of how ridiculous I am being),
this is all the result of me being exhausted, and particularly it being almost
one in the morning. Everything looks dim and doofy at one in the damn morning,
unless you are out doing something very exciting and fun. Why aren’t I out
doing something exciting and fun? It is because I am dim, and doofy. Dim and
doofy enough to think that this next week, it’s going to be totally productive
and I am totally going to get the
whole place packed and then nap for the rest of the month! Save me from stupid
masked as optimism! I’m going to bed.

4 Replies to “dim and doofy”

  1. Hey, stupid masked as optimism gets me through life; don’t knock it. And stop knocking yourself. You’re doing fine. It’ll be fine. Really. I promise.

  2. aaaaaaaccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
    ok. I feel better now.

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