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Out of Sorts

March 23, 2011

I feel so bleh this week. That’s not even right. It’s not that I feel bleh it’s just that I’m super over the top emotional about everything this week.

I couldn’t find the mailboxes in the new history building and it was stressing me so much that I had a bad dream about it Sunday night. Then Homie and I had a conversation about plans for some upcoming events that didn’t go very smoothly. I was unnecessarily upset about it and opted to go to bed instead of continuing such a fruitless conversation.

Monday we did a re-do on the conversation and it went much better. After we finished Homie said, “you really had a bad dream about not being able to find the mailboxes?” And I burst into tears because yes, I did have a bad dream about not being able to find the mailboxes. I looked several times last week. Last Thursday I literally walked every inch of the building trying to find them. The rest of the day Monday I felt super stressed all day.

Yesterday I was ridiculously on edge. I managed to get through the day without incident until last night. We were talking while we ate dinner and as I was telling a story Homie kind of hurried me along and said impatiently “right, right I know.” Except that what I was telling him he actually didn’t know, the two stories just seemed similar. Then I got very quiet because my feelings were hurt. Kick your puppy kind of hurt. I don’t even know why. Then Homie apologized for being impatient, but that didn’t actually make it better because I wasn’t upset that he was impatient about my story. I was upset that he wanted me to hurry along the previous story. But in telling the previous story I was actually answering his question and I was really excited because usually when I tell him stories they are completely irrelevant to him. This particular story though was relevant, and it was about something he wanted to know about, and it was a topic I know lots about but he doesn’t (those three things never come together). And while I was answering his question I realized that I was talking too much, and I told myself that I needed to give shorter answers because he didn’t really seem interested in long rambling stories. Then we moved onto the next topic and I was trying to keep it short, and then he hurried me along, and I realized that even when I was trying to keep my story short I failed. And then I started crying.

Poor Homie thought I was crying and melting down because he had been impatient with me. I was actually crying because when he was impatient with me it reminded me that I had told myself to keep my story short and I was trying to, but I failed.

Today I am desperate for cookie dough. I want cookie dough more than anything else. I don’t have time to make any though. I want cookie dough so badly that I pulled the gross freezer burned ice cream out and started eating the chunks of cookie dough out of it. Fortunately, while I was doing that I remembered I have half a cup of ice cream left over from Sunday night courtesy of DA. It is chocolate ice cream with peanut butter sauce and cookie dough.

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