Apathy, Slacking, & Picking Up My Game

I am such a slacker.  Procrastinator.  Lazy af.  While I own these traits, I know they are symptoms of my depression, and while most days I can fight the lack of motivation off and be a somewhat productive member of society, other days I just allow myself to drown in my disincentive bullshit.


I’ve had a rough month.  My husband’s grandmother and She Who Can Not Be Named’s evil little Shih Tzu stayed with us for about four weeks.  Having grandma here was great, even if it did disrupt my daily routine a bit.  For this awesome lady, I can overlook the slight inconveniences of having to get up to get her something several times a day.  But the dog is an evil little twat, and has made me hate the entire Shih Tzu breed.  I hated her the last time she stayed with us, (you can reread about that on my post titled Being On The Mend, Dogs, And She Who Can Not Be Named), and I hated her more this last time because she took a nip at my finger when I tried to pick her up so grandma didn’t trip on her on her way to the bathroom.  Dumb thing had the nerve to bite the hand that was feeding her.  She’s not trained, and for a breed that is supposed to be rather intelligent, she is a total idiot.  And she barks incessantly with this yip, yip, yipping that is enough to drive the calmest and most tolerant of people stark raving mad.  How her voice never tires is beyond me. When my girlfriend came to visit me the day before my surgery (it was time to get my tubes tied) to bring me a pre-op care package, the little bitch LITERALLY barked for the entire two hours my friend was here without taking a breath.  Me = dog lover, so I would never harm her, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t fantasize about throttling the little twat on several occasions.

I was a bad month for house guests, as I was already going through a depressive episode – one of the worst I’d had in a long time – and was avoiding being around people who weren’t part of my immediate family because I don’t like people seeing me when I’m like that.  For whatever reason, after grandma got here, I slipped even further into my own private hell, and was feeling semi-suicidal.  I couldn’t write, I couldn’t edit my book, and I couldn’t blog.  Maybe some of it was hormones, as my uterus has officially turned on me, and is doing her best to make me as physically miserable as possible.  I’m also overtired because I’m quite anemic from her antics.  But I’m convinced most of it was my dark passenger.


She shows up uninvited, unannounced, and makes herself at home for as long as she feels like it.  She stuck around for three weeks this time, making me the worst kind of slacker, and I could shake her off.  I actually feared that the only way I was going to get rid of her was to off myself.  My guess is that she didn’t like being doped up on anesthesia and Norco, because a couple days after surgery, she was gone.  Typical of her, to stick around until I’ve had almost more than I can bear before she decides to split.  Fare thee well, bitch.  For Christ’s sake, I hope she didn’t hitch a ride with grandma.

So this is the week I pick up my game.  Okay, weekend.  It’s the weekend I pick up my game.  Or the pieces to be salvaged from the havoc my dark passenger unleashed on me.  Either way, I’m feeling better and that is all that matters.







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