Well, if it ain’t PMS then I don’t know how else to explain it.

I was trying to get back into the old Cindy this weekend, slept in till almost noon, then I got up and got dressed to go to the gym for a couple of hours. Going downstairs in itself was depressing. The house was in disarray, and there’s nothing I can do about much without a vacuum cleaner. I’m not going to fight the “black Friday” shopping crowd, so I’ll have go to w/o a vacuum for a few more days. There are papers on the dining table of things that needed something to be done — opening an ING account online, ordering additional checks, calling my retirement plan and asking why they show me under Plan E when I clearly switched over to Plan D 6 years ago… There was cat hair on my couch so the cat has been taking advantage of my being home less by doing what he knows he’s not allowed to. I felt like I’d let everything slide and get away from me and I’m completely overwhelmed. The neighbor across the driveway from me again had their friend park on the driveway instead of on the street despite all the tow-away signs posted, and I’m blocked from being able to back my car out of my garage. My fat percentage is as high as it’s ever been, I need to vacuum the cat area, the cat’s all sheddy and I need to brush him, I wish I could cure his corneal ulcer problem and finally get him out of his cone, there’s a huge black spider up over the fireplace that I can’t reach without a vacuum cleaner extension hose, there are paid bills that need to be sorted through and filed away and laundry to be done… It was overwhelming me until I was interrupted by the beeping of my cell phone, signalling that I’ve just received a text message.

I eagerly went to check it, and I didn’t realize how much I miss Mr. W until the disappointment of seeing it’s not from him nearly made me want to drop to the floor in exhaustion — if the carpet weren’t so dirty from cat hairs. Then I thought, there’s nothing wrong with my calling him. It’s not like he’s out in Vegas partying with the guys and doing things I’m not supposed to know about so that I can’t call him cuz he wouldn’t pick up and would only accuse me of “checking up” on him. Mr. W doesn’t do crap like that. So I called. He picked up and upon hearing his voice, I almost cried.

***
I remember how hard first grade was. Strange new country, mean racist kids, language barrier, different rules. I’d thought I was doing pretty well, holding it together. The class was walked over to another classroom in a portable building for an hour of games and crafts. Like sheep or lemming, we allowed ourselves to be herded into the classroom where different tables were set up with a parent volunteer at each station, each teaching a different activity. To my absolute shock, my mother was at one of these tables and she waved happily at me. She had never looked so beautiful. All my control evaporated and I started bawling. She walked over toward me as I yelled, “Ma!”, broke from the line of kids and threw my little arms around her waist and I just sobbed and sobbed, like a shipwrecked passenger who had been clinging to driftwood for days, listless and hopeless, when a sudden rescue snaps the passenger out of a state of shock. I remember a part of me skeptically saying to myself, “What’s your problem? Why’re you clinging to your mom like that? Why’re you crying? There’s nothing wrong. You’re embarrassing yourself.” But I didn’t care, I told the voice. Everything was so hard, and this is the one thing I knew. My mother.
***

Wow, I’ve th0ught of that event before, but it never made me cry like I just did. So anyway, Mr. W is with his parents and his daughter, his dad driving them to a pizzeria that Mr. W had been craving forever, where they supposedly make authentic Chicago-style pizza because the Chicago-based chain ships ingredients out to the Vegas branch. (Mr. W grew up in Chicago.) After that they’re going to see an enclosed residential community that turns its frozen lake into an ice skating rink and the European style villas do an artificial snow show. I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. He needs to see his parents more often, and they’re only in the next state. He told me yesterday that his dad asked him to convince me to go, and he’d told his dad he already tried. Today, I asked him to tell everyone hello for me and sorry I couldn’t make it.

*Sigh* I’m gonna have to get over my retarded emotions and make a dent in the crap downstairs. Good grief, what is wrong with me? Just because this is the first weekend we’re going to spend apart since we started dating? It’s only been a few months!