Furniture and mud holes.

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Looks like it’s blog-thirty, and it’s about time I wrote something down. Life has been a bit boring here. I have been selling off all of the furniture I no longer want, and have started peopling. I have spoken to people that I didn’t even know who paid me to come take away my junk! Now this is a pretty awesome job. I don’t have to lift, haul, tote, carry, or load any bit of it. I just have to take someones money and let then have whatever it is they came for.

One of the ladies I sold some stuff to called me her “Furniture God Mother”, has a nice ring to it! I am trying to furnish her whole place, and thankfully she wants to take my stuff!! Now I need a wand…and I need a nice one, not one of those cheap plastic ones. I want a fancy one with crystals, ribbons, and utterly ridiculous nonsense that would perfectly suit me.There is no reason to do anything half-assed.

I have firmly decided a philosophy class is not for me. I am in one, but its a crazy mess. I read the writings of these great philosophers and apparently my perception of what they are trying to say is not anywhere close to what the quizzes want me to interpret. I though philosophy was based upon debate and differing views? How in the hell am I supposed to have an opinion and my own critical thinking skills if you are going to tell me that there is only one way to think about it? This is bullshit. I do great in the discussions and readings, but crap in the quizzes. Maybe I should write the Professor and tell him that this method of teaching philosophy is unacceptable?

My friend just sent me that little basketball on Facebook….let’s just say that I touched it like she told me to. Which then commenced the most horrible little virtual basketball game that I just cannot get a good score on. The she tells me she got a whopping 29 points. To which I replied ” Yeah, well fuck you and your stealthy fingers”. I do not have any kind of stealth, not even in my fingers. All of me has the “like an elephant” lack of stealth. Why the hell do I not have this skill? Where can I get some? Fucking stealthy fingers.

One thing I have figured out during all this selling of my crap, is that people think I’m funny. When they come to my house not only do they get stuff but they also end up laughing a lot in my driveway. One lady even got a text while she was here asking if she was safe. I immediately told her to write “dead, stuffed under the bed.” no wait “dead. In the attic” or even “dead. In the back yard”. By the way, she would never, ever be put in the attic because who the hell is going to drag the body up those stairs? Not this girl! Plus it would stain my garage, and who wants to try to get the blood smears out of there? You literally couldn’t even clean those properly right now because of all the stuff in the garage that I’m trying to sell! So, the attic is out. It would probably be the back yard. There is no grass out there so it would be easy peasy to bury someone out there.

She asked me if I had planned out killing someone, I told her not until she mentioned it. She thinks I’m funny. We also discussed getting together again to have slug races. We would make a little maze on the driveway with salt and each have a slug to put into the maze/race. The slug that made it the furthest or all the way out would win. We are also talking about using Christmas lights along the salted lines to help us see when it gets dark and makes the race all the more interesting But no blinking lights, or multi-colored lights. Those drive me crazy, for one, just one color please! It’s more aesthetically pleasing and doesn’t make a person feel a little panicky. The blinking thing is annoying and makes you feel like you’re rapidly blinking. Sorry but that’s not going to work during slug racing. She and I may actually do this, and if so I’ll take pictures….or maybe she just thought it was a funny idea and doesn’t really want to do it? Either way I’ll probably still set up my little maze, poor slugs, I feel a bit bad about using them for my amusement with their deaths. I think I will substitute the salt with sand. I have plenty in my no-grass backyard.

Yes! My backyard has just a little strip of grass along the edge of the house and porch, other than that its just DIRT! Who the hell sells you a house without grass?!? Don’t worry I highly questioned this before the purchase (another reason why the trailer may have been better. It surely would have come with grass on all sides). I was told that these houses are only allotted so much sod per house. Apparently all of ours was used in the front and sides and none was left over for the backyard. Poor sad backyard. I really do need grass and am thinking about getting it Dick and Jane style. Go to other people’s yards and cut out a piece to take home and do this until I have a whole backyard of grass. Good plan, this may have to start tomorrow.

Talking about the lack of grass. We were at Wal-Mart the other night, Matt and I. He starts looking at one of the above ground pools which can fit a whole family but is shallow enough for tiny people.

Matt: We need one of these at the new house.

Me: DYING LAUGHING

Matt: What?

Me: We aren’t getting a pool right now.

Matt: Why not?

Me: You want our kids to go play in a pool in the dirt? You want a muddy pool and muddy children? Did you forget WE HAVE NO GRASS?

Matt: Oh….

I am sorry, but muddy dogs, children, and whoever else may be walking back there are not allowed in the house. I will not be swimming in a mud hole, I am Low Class Fancy. It’s not allowed in these parts. Had he gone along with my idea we could have had a yard full of grass and a mud hole to play in. Not to mention fainting goats and roaming chickens. Right now the mud hole is a no go right along with the animals Matt won’t let me have.

 

 

The New Therapist

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So, I mentioned that I was getting a new therapist in a previous blog. She is Ah-mazing. I also liked the old therapist til she started her shenanigans, but this one is better! She is like a comfy pair of sweats, and not in a bad way. Not meaning that they are worn out, probably smelly from not washing them so often because they are always on your ass, or that you wouldn’t want anyone to see you in them. I mean that she is comfortable, something to look forward to, and she smells just fine.

I am a rambler. I tend to try to fit everything I need to say in the shortest period of time possible, and I hate uncomfortable silences with new people. So I tend to spout everything all at once, and most likely incoherently, when I first meet people. Which makes me look even crazier than I am and when I get home I feel like I may have just scared that person half to death. Only half to dead because apparently they didn’t literally die in my presence.

She never made me feel like I was “too much”. She listened even when I went over my allotted time. She didn’t try to kick me out of her office when time was up or even before time was up. She was kind and didn’t make me feel like my mind is a traitor that tries to sabotage me every time I meet someone new. I always say to my self “Next time you will keep your mouth shut and try to contain your discomfort so you don’t scare people away. You will be on your best behavior. You will not ramble or talk about some nonsense that some people don’t think is near as funny as you are. You will not behave inappropriately according to normal peoples standards.” Then real life happens and my mind says “Fuck all that, you are just going to be you. Fuck what they think and if they can’t handle this shit they can’t handle being your friend”. Just like when I met her, and I told her I was born a disappointment. I believe she was a bit startled by the honesty and frankness of my statement, but she was okay with it and my thoughts of that statement. I told her about how I almost lost my shit at the pharmacy that very morning and that I was seriously contemplating something that may or may not have included stabbing someone, and she didn’t run screaming.

I think this time it will work out. I have only ever had two mental health people that I have liked and they were both in Germany. The therapist I first ever truly loved was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. She truly liked me, and I was able to trust her. Then the military decided to be assholes and fire her! What the fuck? And they did this right when I needed her the most. Then they told me I was REQUIRED to see another therapist. At that point I completely threw a temper tantrum (full blown crying, screaming, one foot stamp, and dying inside) and ABSOLUTELY refused.

I am crazy, and you WILL NOT tell me what I have to do with my own mental healthcare. You cannot make me take my meds or require me to do anything. Learn your role military mental health people! The other person I truly liked was my prescribing psychologist who also became my therapist when the other one was fired. She is funny, witty, and SUPER smart. I like that in a person. I saw her until I left Germany and tried to convince her to move with me. To which she refused telling me she hated the South. I really can’t blame her, at least she knows what does and doesn’t work for her. I still wish she were here or that I could talk to her about how life is going here.

Instead I have a new therapist who may just be the one for me here in Georgia. Keep your fingers crossed that this works out better than the last.

 

Clutter

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Where the hell do people put their clutter? I am having issues. I feel like I should just throw everything away so that there is no clutter or stuff in my house but the bare minimum. I mean truly where the hell do people put all their stuff in these houses that there is no clutter or small bits of stuff like wooden statutes from Africa?

I am fluctuating between a minimalist house with nothing or trying to figure out how to decorate…which is not something I am equipped with. Give me a picture and I can recreate it, but just give me an empty house and I got nothing.

I have bad genes. I was not given the ones that would be highly useful right now. I also cannot party plan to save my good name, not saying my name is completely good, but its good enough to need saving.

Not sure what to do with this house now that I have it….the trailer idea may have truly been better because then no one would have cared.

Low Class Fancy

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Interesting chats with Matt:

On the way to the lawyers office to sign for our new house we passed by a bunch of trailers and trailer parks. Hey, we live in south Georgia and that should explain it all, and no we didn’t buy a trailer, it’s a real house without wheels underneath.Matt was the driver, as always, so I had the pleasure of looking out the window and thinking about these trailers and the fact that I truly don’t like Georgia.

After a few minutes, I turned to Matt and told him I thought we might be making a mistake in buying our house. He was not pleased, since we were already half way to the lawyers office which is about an hour away from where we live. Then he gave me the what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look.

I told him that we should probably buy a double wide trailer instead. This way we would not only fit in, but then we could be the snobby rich neighbors. We could be all snooty and stuck up and feel like the royalty of the trailer park with our cool cars, well dressed children, and an above ground pool around the back. We could be living high on the horse and everyone would be jealous. Instead of buying our fancy house and being the poor couple in the neighborhood, because lets face it, we aren’t rich or famous, so in this nice house we are pretty much low class fancy.

If I lived in the trailer park and talked like an educated sailor nobody would think twice about it. Here the PTA moms look at me with jaws dropped and can’t believe I would say half the shit I do say. They really need to get over it and grow up. I am an adult and am allowed to talk like one. My parents informed me I was allowed to curse after I turned 18, and that was a year or two ago, so my language is fine.

Matt again is just looking at me and probably wondering if I am done making my point and tells me that we will be fine, I have some good points, but not all of our stuff will fit in a double wide. I had to stop and think. Should we have a giant yard sale? Donate a lot of stuff? Just leave our stuff in the rental house? or should we buy the new house and suck it up that we wouldn’t be the cool popular kids?

Then we got to the lawyers while I was still debating and Matt signed the papers, sealing the deal on our fate…no double wide high class living for this girl.

It’s me, not you!

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I had a therapist. She is a wonderful person chock full of ADD. I had to break up with her. Unfortunately she and I just couldn’t continue on with our relationship as neither of our needs, okay maybe just mine, were not being met. She didn’t have time for me and I couldn’t cope with the cancelled appointments, lack of communication, and lack of experience with Bipolar.

It was doomed from the beginning. So, I sent her this text:

Her name,

I regret to say this, but I think we are going to have to break up. They say communication is the key to all relationships, and unfortunately we haven’t been having that. So I just thought I would let you know.

Racheal

She did reply, in which, she discreetly said “Thank God you broke up with me so that I didn’t have to bear the guilt of telling you I can’t see you and so you don’t do something bat shit crazy on me”. She might have a point, but I still feel a bit short changed. How dare she just accept my break up and not put up a fight! What the hell? I am totally worth fighting for and she didn’t even put in the least bit of effort to make me feel special. Instead she was just like, oh thank the heavens it’s you doing the breaking up and not me.

Just like that line “It’s me not you” but in reverse. Let’s be real, who wouldn’t want to be my therapist? I explained to her what bipolar is like, assigned her some reading to be more informed and knowledgeable of my condition, and made her laugh. What did she do? Cancelled appointments via text, didn’t attempt to reschedule, and then accepts my break up without even saying “Please don’t leave me!” Who the hell does that?

Tomorrow I get a new therapist and hopefully she appreciates me more than the last one.

Hospital scented

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It has been a rough couple of days. We moved! We decided that renting wasn’t working out anymore and bought a house. Moving is the absolute pits, but will hopefully be worth it in the end.

As I was cleaning out the rental house today I got to thinking about candles… At the time I was cleaning out the refrigerator with bleach when the brilliance hit. Why are there no hospital scented candles? I love nothing more than the clean and sanitary smell of a hospital. The bleach smell. I really think there should be a candle called “hospital smell”. I mean why not? Who wouldn’t love a candle that smells like the hospital?

Also I should never be trusted to clean the fridge. I have to completely disassemble the entire interior to feel like it has been cleaned. That being said the last time, when we were moving out of our house in Germany, I broke the damned fridge. The day before our inspection to move out I BROKE the damned shelf in the fridge. Not good.

This time thankfully Matt stayed near to monitor me not to break this one and only clean it. He took all the pieces out and put them back in after I had thoroughly OCD cleaned the whole thing, with bleach. Have I mentioned I LOVE bleach?

Chip dispensensers

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Me: Reece got chippy with me.

Me: 2 pictures of my son and smashed tortilla chips all over the living room floor.

Matt: I take it he got the bag?

Me: No, he’s magically shitting tortilla chips now. He’s like a little chip dispenser.

Matt: Sell him then.

Me: And he’s doing Mio shots.

Matt: Nice.

Me: This is not a joke. He is stained orange from doing Mio shots. So don’t be surprised.

Matt: How did he get the Mio so he could do shots?

Me: Off the counter.

Me: Okay, so I am legitimately going crazy. No exaggeration here.

Matt: Why is that? (he is not surprised)

Me: I forgot my meds and my judgement is highly in question here.

Matt: You forgot them last night or the last few nights?

Me: And I think I may have forgotten more than once but I’m not 100% on that. And squirrels are furry homeless people if that explains things.

Matt: Good lord dear.

Me: And I’m breaking up with my therapist. Communication is key in any relationship (Manda brought that point up in another conversation) and she and I just don’t have that, so I’m going to have to leave her. And I need to get a referral for McKenzie from Medical but my judgement is too suspect for me to call right now.I may just tell the person I need a referral to stab people, who knows.

Matt: Maybe you should take your meds now.

Me: I did…..Now it’s the waiting game.

Matt: Okay.

Me: Me and the crazy are becoming one, and my husband won’t let me be a goldfish. (I’ll explain about the goldfish later)

Matt: Well now you know what happens when you don’t take your meds.

Me: So, I will now fully admit that I’m mentally ill, but I’m not exactly sick.

Matt: You might be but I am not a professional.

Me: I’m supposed to be a professional one day but I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle all of that, I’m not good at adulting.

Matt: Me neither. (not sure if he meant he’s not sure I can handle being a professional or if he isn’t good at adulting either)

Me: We are quite the pair.

Matt: Yes we are.

Me:You should find a better wife, I’m a shit one.

Matt: Well, I believe you are the best wife for me dear.

Me: I’m not sure, but what do I know?

Matt: I told you Reece got his attitude from you.

Me: No, just his listening skills.

Matt: Same thing.

Me: Thankfully right now he’s not as crazy as me.

Matt: True that.

Me: (Meds finally kicked in). It’s exhausting to be me!

Matt: I bet. (He means it’s also exhausting to be with me)

Cattle and Unicorns

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Me: we are all cattle

Matt: I would rather be a deer.

Me: You can’t, you’re a dear.(Ha! Now he’s being ridiculous)

Matt: Hahaha

Me: I’d rather be a unicorn with a limp, but you don’t see that happening either now do you?

Matt: Nope.

Me: Not even going to ask about the limp? That’s disappointing.

Matt: I was wondering about that but I didn’t ask.

Me: Okay, well now that you asked I’ll tell you. If I had a limp people wouldn’t want to kill me or ride me for fear of injuring me more. So it’s a win win.

Matt: You will still get shot just to mount your head.

Me: Doubt it, They would just take photos because who wants a gimpy unicorn head on the wall when they will always remember how cruel it is to kill an already fucked up unicorn.

Matt: How would you know if you are limp or not with your head mounted on the wall?

Me: I’m not limp, I have a limp, big difference.

Matt: Limp in your leg?

Me: And no one wants to kill the last unicorn that has a limp.

Matt: I would just keep you.

Me: I’d probably end up in a zoo or circus. People will pay to see my gimpy ass and no one will be able to kill and stuff me. I’ll get my own special enclosure with an awesome caretaker who is my BFF and brings me treats, and thinks my limp is cute.

Matt: Yes you would dear.

Me: Thank you, that means a lot to me.

Matt: I would put you in the back yard.

Me: You would need a bigger back yard and don’t forget the treats. And bestiality is still frowned upon so don’t get any fucked up ideas.

Matt: Too late.

Me: You’re just sick you know! I am a gimpy unicorn for God’s sake!!

Now who is the disturbed one?

 

 

Sanity vs. Sanitary

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Conversations with Matt. Now before we get started, I mentioned I’m OCD, so sanitary and clean are the same thing in my mind. Once I get cleaning everything has to be bleached. I can’t just stop at picking up and say this is good enough. Oh no no! So here is our conversation.

Me: I’m trying to figure out which is more important, sanity or sanitary?

Matt: What do you mean? I think both are a little equal.

Me: I mean just what I said, is it more is my sanity more important than my house being sanitary or vice versa?

Matt: Well one feed off the other but then with Reece (our 2 year old) it is hard to say.

Me: Excuse all the typos and incoherent jargon in that text and decipher that as: Is my sanity more important than the house being sanitary or vice versa?

Me: Exactly! It’s a hard call so I’ll just keep mulling it over for a bit before deciding. Let’s also consider my sanity has always been in question so why is it so important now?

Matt: Just walk in McKenzie’s (our 12 year old) bathroom and see how you feel. That may answer it.

Me: I may also need to call in back up and use my phone-a-friend option.

Matt: Who is your phone-a-friend?

Me: Manda, her sanity is mostly in question too, so it evens out the playing field.

Matt: Nice dear. (His general response which means I’m being ridiculous)

Me: True story.

This is my story!

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There is always one Negative Nancy in every group. I absolutely loathe when I’m on a tirade about something, and being hysterical (hysterical funny, not hysterical crazy), that someone has to pipe in and say that I’m looking at it all wrong. This is the point where I’m like “hey, shut up, this is my story!” so stay the fuck of out it! No one wants your input and my views are much better than your intrusions with the so called facts. You don’t know me!

At this point make sure you go onto your Facebook and make sure you delete that asshole from your friends list so the next time you go on a tirade they can’t ruin your awesomeness. Delete, delete, delete.