Modern Day Spinster

The expected definition of a spinster is to just be a single and never married woman. If it were only that simple. I am a daughter, sister, auntie, friend, babysitter, alumna, artist, writer, diva, comedienne, bitch, caregiver, confidante, adviser, stylist, cheerleader, singer, dancer, activist, referee, sinner, saint, lover and occassional dater. Watch as I try to balance multiple spinning plates of relationships, responsibiilities, and reactions to life.

Friday, July 29, 2005

The morning after.

I missed chatting with friends as well as mr. potential because of what happened last night. I had a beer and went to sleep hoping to be able to let go of last night. I'm still debating whether to post last night's draft. I'm soooo tempted. Dammit I woke up and I'm still pissed off. I've never been so upset that I've had body parts tense up on me. It's at times like this that I wish that I didn't stop smoking. Compusively binge eating is out of the question because I can't afford it. Nor can I shop till the pain goes away.

I believe today is finally the day I finally pack up the stuff collected from the "Hey I Have Too Much Crap" tour. I know why I've held onto it for so long. Because everytime I get into the zone of accomplishment, there's a knock on the door. The gimmes just spew out from them.
"Don't forget, I have a doctor's appointment."
" You need to drop this off at the post office."
" Pick this up at the store 'cause I'm too busy, you wouldn't mind?."
" I need help getting ready. You're making us late, why aren't you ready?"
" I want to show off your place, can't you clean better?"
"I guess I forgot you said you wanted to do laundry which is why I'm using the machines now."
" Talk to the doctor's office I can't figure out what they want."
" I know I said I didn't want to go anywhere, but I've changed my mind. "
"You can change your plans just this once."

Then there's the cell phone calls. Bitch-in-law banter. Fake interest in what is going on with me. Never inviting me to do anything and bragging about it later. All of the pseudo emergencies. Spinning details and changing stories and where is can yak at me till it suit her. Then if I say a word." Gee I gotta go. M'byeee". I love British slang. Smug married cow. That goes for her and the rest of her coven.

I can't believe Fred and Ethel expect me to forgive them. Oh hell no. I do believe I've reached a new level in super-major-pissed-overdrive courtesy of that level of harrassment. I didn't appreciate them telling my brother and his wife the lie that I cried on the drive home. Yeah right. I was so enraged I was lucky that I didn't cause an accident. There would have been sympathy for the carjacker, mugger, or rapist after I was through with them. I've passed the level of crying. My body just goes numb. Sometimes my delayed reaction time works for me .

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