Husband walked in on me yesterday finishing off the large bag of potato chips I’d bought the day before.
“What?” I said, aggressively. “I’m eating my feelings.”
“Write them down!” He shouted. Which is particularly funny, coming from him, because his motto is ‘Never write anything down. It will incriminate you.’
But I did used to write all my feelings down. And writing them down helped because I was able to sort them out, make some perverse sense of them - or, I was at least able to find the funny in them. Lately, I’ve not felt like writing about my feelings. I’ve felt like eating those feelings, shoving fat and sugar and salt right on top of them and squishing them down deeper into my whatever to deal with later.
Later is going to be a holy mess.
With that in mind, as I was licking the salt and fat off my fingers and smearing the chip crumbs off my face, I told Husband he was right. I should probably think about writing again...
And then this morning, at Costco I realized that Husband was wrong. Why write when feelings can be smothered in dark chocolate covered mangos.
I may have bought multiple boxes - I mean, bags.
Let’s face it, chocolate might not fix a feeling but it sure tastes good smothering them down.
It’s been a busy few months. What with my rehearsals and daytime performances and Husband’s recording clients, we only seem to see each other when he’s exhausted or I’m exhausted or at the vet with a dog - or three. And this roller coaster we’re on is about to get rockier. But I have picked the perfect partner to ride the stupid with. Because a week ago, I bought a bag of Clementines at Costco. Since they seem to mush if we leave them in a bowl, I left them loose in lines along the back of the kitchen counter. The next morning, I woke up to Clementine Art by Husband. .
There’s nothing like Clementines arranged in the shape of a smiley face to start your day off right. Well, I’m sure winning the lottery might make your day much much better, but you have to play to win. And we only had Clementines so Clementine Art it has been.
I responded to Husband's Clementine face with a large, somewhat lumpy heart and we’ve been communicating in orange orbs all week. The kicker is that as we eat them, we have less and less material to work with. Sunday night, I left him a motley version of man parts – that honestly looked like it needed to be seen by a doctor quick. He responded with a tiny pair boobs – or a pair eyes if you’re not a 12yr boy. Yesterday I managed a pitiful sad face and this morning, I woke up to this:
This silly form of communication made cleaning up dog puke at 6am while lumbering about like I've pooped my own pants because my back is out bearable. Without something to smile about, life is a rough road. It's easy to sink into the mire pretty damn quick if you don't have someone to pull you out and point out the funny.
Or make you Clementine Art with carrot boobs.
Find your person, your people, your weird ones and you can make it through this stupid life roller coaster with a smile on your face. At least that's my plan.
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me