Welcome to My Well

I say: "I live in a well".

You say: "You live in a well, what?"

I say: "Not a, well, what. A WELL! A deep, dark, dank, hole in the friggin earth. GEEZZ. I'm trying to tell you that I live in depression most of the time and I HATE, HATE, HATE it".

You say:  "Really, dearie, what have you got to be depressed about. It's a beautiful day, you have clothes on your back, food to spare, even a little chocolate in the pantry. None of your children are in prison and whom most of the time don't hate you, you have a car that runs and has gasoline in it and you have an appointment for a massage later in the week. What in the world do you have to be depressed about?"

I say: "You're right. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I just friggin woke up this morning and said, 'Dear God, Could you please, please, please grant me just one or two more days of feeling like crap'? And, who knew that finally, a prayer would be answered. Don't you know anything about REAL depression, the kind that even though your life seems perfect, you still want to lie in the middle of the road and pretend you are a speed bump"?

You say: "Oh, stop with the 'Oh poor me' garbage. You don't know anything when it comes to being down. I'll tell you right now, I've got problems you can't even imagine. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you about BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...."

I say: "How on earth do you think that unloading your woes on me is the key to unlocking my deep and apparently misplaced happiness"?

You say: "Oh, I get it. It's all about you. Well, little Miss The World Hates Me, I'll tell you what you need....You need... uhhh, you need.....Prozac! I have a friend who takes Prozac and she tells me her life is exceptional now, except she can't have an orgasm and she's at high risk for, oh, I don't know, lots of stuff, but she doesn't care because she's having so much fun except for the orgasm part. She spends alot of her time shopping now...AT...THE...MALL where before she just sat and shopped off of QVC or something like that, whatever you get on cable, but now, she just hops in her little car and off to the mall she goes, happy as a little lark. I can call her if you want and and find out who her supplier, I mean, who her doctor is. What do you say?"

I say: "You are too kind, but I already take antidepressants and believe it or not, I do feel better than I did before I took them but I was hoping for better than this. So, now you know. Not only am I a former probationer, I am also a druggie. "

You say: "Well, no wonder you are depressed. I bet you haven't had an orgasm in a long time either. Poor, baby. I have a friend who just bought the most amazing viberator, or so she says, from Brookstone, you know the little place in the mall where they sell funky stuff at Christmas"?

I say: "Really? You have a friend? How on earth did you manage that....no, wait, I think I'd rather shoot myself  than hear about it".

You say: "Hello.....Hello.....Are you still there? Guess not. Oh my, look at the time, my story is just about to start".

Well, only twenty four hours to go before I am officially off of probation. I am trying to figure out what I might want to do to celebrate. I can hardly remember the time when I could just mindlessly drive through Rambo's territory without tension in my shoulders and a knot in my gut. Come to think of it those symptoms didn't begin with him. I think I was born with knotted shoulder and gut syndrome. I don't want to give Rambo more credit than he is due. His sort is better compared to the annoying fly over the potato salad at a picnic.

If you read earlier blogs concerning my disdain for this particular Rambo, you may recall that I threatened to stop supporting the 100 Club as a way to treat that particular solicitation with the same consideration as all the other solicitations that I receive on a daily basis given this guy was so into fairness and all. Well, I also said that I was basically a weeny and would probably back down. So, I have come up with a compromise that I can live with and I am sure the 100 Club can live with also.  I have decided to withhold the donations until the amount of money that was spent on lawyers, court costs, tickets and etc. have equalled the amount I would have given to "the club". I will instead send what would have been "their" money to someone who doesn't not pack a gun (radar or otherwise) and hide in the bushes or behind tress looking for law breakers.

Do not misunderstand me, I have great respect for meaningful law enforcement. I believe there are some really bad people in the world who intend to do really bad things to other people given the opportunity and I want all the Rambo's of the world to be prepared to handle the situation.  Driving 6 miles over the speed limit, however does not fit the really bad person profile in my opinion. But, you never know, I think it was a broken tail light that got the Oklahoma bomber pulled over...what were the chances.

Easy To Assemble

It is day two of trying to assembling the grill that brags about taking just two hours. It occurs to me that these estimates are for people who have controlled bladders, no phone calls, do not have to cook supper, nor do they have four dogs trying to help. Nor do they have a pool that is an instruction manual magnet and futhermore, they are people who know where they last left at least one of sixteen pair of  "reading" glasses. O.K., I have exaggerated, if not outright lied about a lot of this. If I were to try to assemble the new grill, the later would be my story, instead, my dear companion has assembled the grill in order to spare me and him all of the above and a beautiful job he has done and a beautiful grill it is. I instead watched through the open back door and swatted flies and mosquitoes while reading messages about all of the updates that needed to occur on the computer, each of course needing to "restart" after downloading. This computer requires more updating than a hormonal teenager's wardrobe.

I offered my opinion that I should have been born in the future when all this computer business was better developed. I want one that when I want to use it, has already installed all of the updates, restarted how ever many times it needs to restart, have the page opened to where I want to be opened and a hot (or cold) cup or glass of tea waiting for me when I sit down. My partner informed me that I didn't have to wait for such accommodation, that it already exists. Good grief, I yelled, how did I miss buying whatever it is that does all of that? He told me " you don't buy it, you hire it. It's called a 'secretary' but like most unmarried women in search of a mate say about men, 'the good ones are usually already taken' and they should add that they don't come cheap and rarely on sale". Killjoy. I just love a sale.