Sometimes you cannot suppress the volcanic insanity...
...and you spew hot, molten crazy on everyone within range.
This is a peek into the mind of such an occurrence. I've often said that I shove feelings down, down, down, until they bubble up to the surface, where I have an "I FEEL" day. This is once such occasion. Remember to judge not, because this could be you one day (or you may be in the vicinity when all the impending doom is about to happen, and you should know when to take cover).
*We move into our home 5 1/2 years ago. We put Plantation Shutters on the front of the house, but install less expensive, wood blinds on the back of the house.
*I think about putting curtains on the living room windows. To soften them. Because drapes are pretty.
*I curse the builder often for the oddly spaced, uneven windows in the living room. I curse him long, loud and often. Usually when I'm by myself.
*I decide to leave it. And think. For a while.
*I think about curtains for the windows EVERYTIME I PASS THEM, which averages out to 16.9 times a day.
*I do this for the next 5 1/2 years.
*Finally, I order some curtains from Anthropologie. I'm a big fan of Anthropologie, but feel that they should have used real gold thread with diamond insets for the amount of money I spent on CURTAINS. For real, y'all. It's fabric. Come ON.
* I decide that the oddly spaced windows (that I blame solely on the builder of this house - I've been known to walk around the house muttering, "Freaking *Insert Builder's Name*") can be fixed with the illusion that the two windows can be made to look like one big window.
*I convey this idea to Nolan.
*Nolan is skeptical.
*I ask him to please just do my idea, which I've been thinking about for 5 1/2 years.
*Nolan is skeptical, and continues to gripe about the task before and during performing it. He also mutters questions about why we even need curtains, since we haven't had any for 5 1/2 years. I explain about the softening and the pretty. He still gripes.
*This attitude makes me cranky. I pour a glass of wine.
*He hangs the hardware and the curtains. Mouthing off as he does so. He is Nolan. He cannot help this.
*The curtains, when hung, do not look like the picture in the magazine, online, or in my head. I curse and question the parentage of Anthropologie, Pinterest and all home decor blogs, in general.
* I look at the curtains for 30 minutes.
*I drink more wine.
*The wine does not make the curtains look better.
*I curse the builder yet again, vaguely pleased with my name-calling creativity.
*I'm disgusted that the culmination of 5 1/2 years of pondering results in time completely freaking wasted. The crazy begins to bubble to the surface.
*Nolan starts backpedaling from his previous gripe-y mood. He sees the train wreck coming, and immediately dives in to salvage the situation, even offering to do the ridiculous: knocking out the living room windows and making them even.
*I get hysterical, thinking about the mess in my house, THE PEOPLE IN MY HOUSE, and the amount of money we'd have to spend to do this. I vehemently tell him , "NO, DO NOT KNOCK ANYTHING DOWN BECAUSE THE CURTAINS I ORDERED LOOK LIKE CRAP."
*Nolan sees that his conciliatory nature is too little too late. He braces himself.
*I have a full-on, five-year-in-the-making, epic meltdown in the middle of my living room.
*I cry.
*I absolutely LOATHE crying, which makes me cry harder.
*I stop crying long enough to take down the curtains, pack them back up in the box to get ready to send them back to Anthropologie, who, as far as I'm concerned, can shove said curtains where no sun ever shines, stick them in their pipe, and smoke them.
*Nolan offers a few more suggestions, all of which result in me looking at him as if he has two heads.
*I remember Nolan is an electrical contractor and a man, and cannot be expected to give actual drapery suggestions that anyone (with any sense) could ever use. I tell him to please, please, please stop suggesting things.
*He does so, the meltdown fresh on everyone's minds. At this point, the boys are still shaking off the molten crazy that oversprayed onto them.
*Nolan says, "Hire someone to do this. They have people for that, right?"
*I realize the full extent of his desperation, that he's now offering to PAY someone to fix this mess.
*I decide to pour out the wine, take a bubble bath and some Motrin PM, and sleep off the crazy.
I still don't know what to do about the stupid curtains, but have taken to deep yoga breathing every time I pass the windows in the living room, which, as I stated above, equals out to about 17 times a day, and is making me into a more centered and well-balanced person. So there's that.
The good news is, I've now purged the crazy for a while, and should be really good for the next several years.
I know. I know. You don't have to say it. I KNOW.
I gotta be me. Crazy and all.
This is a peek into the mind of such an occurrence. I've often said that I shove feelings down, down, down, until they bubble up to the surface, where I have an "I FEEL" day. This is once such occasion. Remember to judge not, because this could be you one day (or you may be in the vicinity when all the impending doom is about to happen, and you should know when to take cover).
*We move into our home 5 1/2 years ago. We put Plantation Shutters on the front of the house, but install less expensive, wood blinds on the back of the house.
*I think about putting curtains on the living room windows. To soften them. Because drapes are pretty.
*I curse the builder often for the oddly spaced, uneven windows in the living room. I curse him long, loud and often. Usually when I'm by myself.
*I decide to leave it. And think. For a while.
*I think about curtains for the windows EVERYTIME I PASS THEM, which averages out to 16.9 times a day.
*I do this for the next 5 1/2 years.
*Finally, I order some curtains from Anthropologie. I'm a big fan of Anthropologie, but feel that they should have used real gold thread with diamond insets for the amount of money I spent on CURTAINS. For real, y'all. It's fabric. Come ON.
* I decide that the oddly spaced windows (that I blame solely on the builder of this house - I've been known to walk around the house muttering, "Freaking *Insert Builder's Name*") can be fixed with the illusion that the two windows can be made to look like one big window.
*I convey this idea to Nolan.
*Nolan is skeptical.
*I ask him to please just do my idea, which I've been thinking about for 5 1/2 years.
*Nolan is skeptical, and continues to gripe about the task before and during performing it. He also mutters questions about why we even need curtains, since we haven't had any for 5 1/2 years. I explain about the softening and the pretty. He still gripes.
*This attitude makes me cranky. I pour a glass of wine.
*He hangs the hardware and the curtains. Mouthing off as he does so. He is Nolan. He cannot help this.
*The curtains, when hung, do not look like the picture in the magazine, online, or in my head. I curse and question the parentage of Anthropologie, Pinterest and all home decor blogs, in general.
* I look at the curtains for 30 minutes.
*I drink more wine.
*The wine does not make the curtains look better.
*I curse the builder yet again, vaguely pleased with my name-calling creativity.
*I'm disgusted that the culmination of 5 1/2 years of pondering results in time completely freaking wasted. The crazy begins to bubble to the surface.
*Nolan starts backpedaling from his previous gripe-y mood. He sees the train wreck coming, and immediately dives in to salvage the situation, even offering to do the ridiculous: knocking out the living room windows and making them even.
*I get hysterical, thinking about the mess in my house, THE PEOPLE IN MY HOUSE, and the amount of money we'd have to spend to do this. I vehemently tell him , "NO, DO NOT KNOCK ANYTHING DOWN BECAUSE THE CURTAINS I ORDERED LOOK LIKE CRAP."
*Nolan sees that his conciliatory nature is too little too late. He braces himself.
*I have a full-on, five-year-in-the-making, epic meltdown in the middle of my living room.
*I cry.
*I absolutely LOATHE crying, which makes me cry harder.
*I stop crying long enough to take down the curtains, pack them back up in the box to get ready to send them back to Anthropologie, who, as far as I'm concerned, can shove said curtains where no sun ever shines, stick them in their pipe, and smoke them.
*Nolan offers a few more suggestions, all of which result in me looking at him as if he has two heads.
*I remember Nolan is an electrical contractor and a man, and cannot be expected to give actual drapery suggestions that anyone (with any sense) could ever use. I tell him to please, please, please stop suggesting things.
*He does so, the meltdown fresh on everyone's minds. At this point, the boys are still shaking off the molten crazy that oversprayed onto them.
*Nolan says, "Hire someone to do this. They have people for that, right?"
*I realize the full extent of his desperation, that he's now offering to PAY someone to fix this mess.
*I decide to pour out the wine, take a bubble bath and some Motrin PM, and sleep off the crazy.
I still don't know what to do about the stupid curtains, but have taken to deep yoga breathing every time I pass the windows in the living room, which, as I stated above, equals out to about 17 times a day, and is making me into a more centered and well-balanced person. So there's that.
The good news is, I've now purged the crazy for a while, and should be really good for the next several years.
I know. I know. You don't have to say it. I KNOW.
I gotta be me. Crazy and all.