I’m FREEZING cold this morning. And that cannot possibly help the mood I’ve been in for the past two days. (I suppose that’s a warning, y’all)
My sister came to visit (not why I’m grumpy, that was wonderful), and every time I’d go over to my mom’s and start talking to them I’d have to stop myself mid-snippy comment and apologize at how apparently I was still in a mood.
It was my own fault. I told Mike I’d work with him with all his travel stuff and kid weekends, etc. But that meant that every weekend in April was opposite of what it should have been, and that meant that I wouldn’t have Ethan-12 yr on his 12 year birthday and I could have said no. But I didn’t. And then I just couldn’t stand it. We all met for a birthday lunch, and I was 5 minutes late because the alternative was showing up with tears running down my face. I held it together through a weird lunch until I walked away and then stumbled through a Chili’s parking lot with tears running down my face again.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so accommodating. It’s a default mode that I’m trying to change. My value is not in how much I can simplify others’ lives or in how much I can reduce their inconvenience, even at my own expense. Why do I forget that? Or, why did I never know that before? I remember thinking that this would be difficult – being away from Ethan on that day – but that was part of divorce and it would be hard on either Mike or on me, and it might as well be me.
Well, SURE. But it didn’t have to be. I agreed to switch weekends and VOLUNTEER to be the fool in the Chili’s parking lot. I’ve got to figure this stuff out. And fast.
Ethan-12yr had a nice birthday. I’m sure of that. (That helps.)
I was FREEZING cold yesterday, too. Yesterday morning I slid into the very last pew and sat in the wide gap between two older men. I like the back of church. You’re way close to the door, and the people around you are mostly old with hearing aids because there are speakers back there. I’m shy and tone deaf – it’s a good place for me. The man to my right stretched his arm out along the back of the pew. I scooted left towards the other man. In order to escape the scenario of sitting with that man’s arm behind me on the pew (SO NOT HAPPENING, don’t even get me started) I had to scoot over and position myself right under a cold air vent. The only alternative was sitting in the lap of the sweet old man to my left, whose right foot seemed to be asleep and so that probably would have made that worse. So, always aiming for ‘appropriate’, I sat there in the draft and froze. I had a chenille cardigan. I wrapped it around myself and tried not to shake visibly. The man in front of me fiddled with his hearing aid a few times, turned around and saw the long left arm I was trying to escape and the shaking blue chenille. He raised a gray eyebrow at the man, flashed me a “WHAT THE HELL?” look, and handed me a navy blue, size large, fantastically warm sweater. I was so grateful. I wrapped up in that one, too, and stopped shaking.
The man to my left (who did not feel the need to dramatically exhibit his wingspan) told me I could sit there any time. He’d been in that exact seat for ten years and I was welcome to come back and be cold right next to him if I wanted. It was a strange, but very kind offer.
I wonder if I could discreetly smuggle in a non-bulky and yet still warm blanket somehow. I might need a bigger purse. But I bet I could do it.
For now, i’m going to take a space heater out to the garage. I’m working on fixing something I screwed up last week and it’s, you guessed it, FREEZING cold out there. Last time I tried to ‘fix’ this mistake I rammed a very sharp screwdriver through my left middle finger. And that was fun. Fun with impaling! So I’ll be wearing gloves this time, maybe holding the ‘problem’ with pliers instead of fingers (my dad’s idea), and looking into getting a tetanus shot. (My sister’s idea.)
Last week I was behind a truck with the business name “Rent a Man!” or something like that. I prayed out loud to God right then and there that I would not be the divorced woman who called the Rent A Man guy. Please, Lord, but no. Let me impale my fingers off, one by one, as I learn to fix whatever I break, before I become that woman who occasionally “rents” men. PLEASE don’t let that be my future.
So. I’m off to freeze in the garage and fix some stuff. Let’s all just agree in prayer that I am successful because we have all just glimpsed the possible alternative, amen.