Back from the break. Did you all have an excellent Christmas and or religious or non-religious holiday celebration? We did. There was even some snowboarding involved. Good times. Hope you're all having a great New Year's Eve, or that you are gearing up for a great one. We've got plans to stay in and entertain a friend or two. I made ham roll ups for the occasion*. It's all very exciting. In any case, I wrote all this last night, so that I could spend today cleaning/ cooking. It's long but cathartic. And maybe worth a chuckle for you.
We look like such professionals.
The Mister and I have assigned bed sides. You might have a similar set-up. Since the beginning of always, when looking at the headboard from the foot of the bed, The Mister sleeps on the left, and I'm on the right. Except the mister's shoulder has been bothering him lately, and long story short (a story which involves him snoring at my face each night if he sleeps on the un-hurty shoulder), we've switched sides the last few nights.
This has worked well for the Mister. I'm another story. (Another, long, story which is also very long and involves us believing that the left side of the bed just sucks altogether and maybe it's time to invest in a new bed. King size? Dreaming big over here.) In any case, wrong side of the bed happened to me this morning. And it continued to ooze it's wrong-ness all day.
Maybe not the fault of the bed - I'm going to go with it anyway - but I seem to be getting into the winter blues a bit hard as of late. This is exacerbated by the fact that, if I had to guess, the new job I mentioned in my last post (which I enthusiastically talked up with my whole family over the holidays)? Yes well, I seem to in fact, not have that job.
I haven't talked about it a lot here, but I've been looking for a job since the start of November, and this was my first real good lead. While I am happy (and thankful, and truly lucky) to say that the Mister's job puts us in a good place financially where I don't actually NEED to find another job money-wise, I have to add that having a job would give me some greater purpose in this world and make me feel like less of an absolutely useless, societal leech (told ya, those blues are hitting me). Today we also took some time to sit down and work on bills and budget, and I always hate doing that, because it showcases to me just how little I contribute, and how much I consume of "our" income. Blargh.
So I'm feelin' kinda dumpy all day, and the Mister in all his awesome, is trying like hell to cheer me up even though I don't really know how to properly explain what's gotten to me without sounding like a giant whiner, so he's taking blind stabs in the dark at things that might make me smile. He brought me a rose home after running errands, and asked if he could take me out to dinner.
(pause for obligatory "aww" moment)
So I tried to brush my hair into something a little tamer, put on a nice sweater and cute shoes, and went about closing the doors to the rooms upstairs, as is our usual routine for "puppy-proofing" the house to leave Mac home alone while we're out.
I shut the door to the "Man-Cave," and promptly found myself crouched on the floor with my hands on my head shouting "Ow ow ow ow ow!"
doooooom from above.
The Mister has one of those pull-up bars that sits in a door-jam. And it stays put really well, until you try to shut the door on it. Then, I can tell you from experience, it comes crashing down on your head. You know how when you hit your head, it usually takes a second or two for the pain to actually register? Yeah no, this was fairly instantaneous and rather intense "Ouch."
I asked the Mister through teary eyes for something cold for my throbbing scalp**. When the Mister returned and asked me to move my hands so he could put the ice pack on my surely already golf-ball sized lump, I heard him gasp: "Oh gosh, you're bleeding!" and I promptly lost any last shred of dignity that was kind of maybe holding me together. I started straight-up sobbing without abandon, and also kind of (aka completely) freaking out because my hands were in fact, covered in my own head-blood. So that sucked.
I took... probably more than a few moments to calm down. It was determined by my amazing husband that though I bled pretty good, the wound was just a nasty scratch. And then he asked if I still wanted to go to dinner, with a look in his eyes that I interpreted to mean "We both need to get out of this house before you're lost forever to this weird abyss in which you insist on treading water."
Thus, a few minutes later we were in the car heading toward the "closest thing to authentic Mexican" restaurant we'd selected for dinner, and I'm trying to make myself stop doing that stupid hiccupy thing that happens as you breathe after you've been crying too hard. As we pulled up, I realized that my head may have stopped bleeding, but there's probably plenty of matted blood in my hair (an assumption I confirmed later). The Mister was about to walk into a crowded restaurant with a wife who's tearstained and rocking a massive blood-caked goose-egg on the back of her head. I could already hear myself trying to explain to our waiter that it was just an accident, and see the restaurant patrons shaking their heads and whispering "what a monster that man is!" The Mister is no monster, he just spent the last 45 minutes trying to do nothing more than cheer me up/ help me stop bleeding. He didn't deserve that, and damed if I was going to let this wild scenario I'd just let loose in my mind actually play out.
So thanks to the wrong side of the bed, I went to dinner in a nice-ish restaurant with my darling husband wearing a winter cap, because it was the only head covering we had in the car. A cap which features giant poof-balls on the top and at the ends of the little ear flaps. And also a knitted pattern of bunnies all around.
Thankfully, the absurdity of wearing a bunny hat to dinner to mask my own idiocy has kind of snapped me out of my own head-funk for the time being. Because you have to laugh at the bunny hat, people. You just do.
The people in the restaurant wouldn't know it, but I look much less stupid with this hat on my head when my makeup isn't smeared down my face and my nose isn't all red and runny. I love the bunny.
Now as I write this, I've swapped the bunny hat for some even more comforting head-gear:
Balancing this ice pack on my noggin makes me feel like the man with many hats.
Are you burdened by the winter blues?
What did your last no-good-very bad day look like?
Anything you can look back on now and laugh at?
Like a ridiculous hat or a husband just trying so so hard to help you out?
*Ham roll ups. I've been informed this is sort of a Wisconsin thing, so for the uninformed: Spread cream cheese liberally on a deli slice of ham. Put a green onion on one end and roll the ham/cheese around that onion until you have a log. trim edges of onion that are outside the log. Put logs in fridge overnight. Slice into 1 inch rolls. Enjoy deliciousness. (some people put pickles in them instead of onions. Those people are wrong. In my opinion, anyway).
these are not the roll-ups I made, but visual example for you anyway.
**As if to add more karmic insult to injury, this head-wound is pretty much exactly where I managed to burn my hair off with a rogue hair dryer just 1 fateful year ago while we were still living in Mexico. That was a fun blog post too.