The hours were folding fast into the time of day I refer to as the “Exhaustion Overload” period, somewhere between the deadly hours of 4-7 PM. You know, the time of day when all hell seemingly breaks loose after already an accidentally full schedule jam-packed with fussing babies, email server errors, the odd telephone spat here and there with Significant Other over things I don’t quite recall anymore. And then there’s the dinner I need to have hot and piping on the table timed exactly so when Significant Other walks through the door of our apartment at 5 (give or take 15 minutes), he feels “taken care of by his sweetheart,” as his father likes to remind me to do.
It’s the time of day when my nerves are so shot the smallest road bump manifests into a semi-crisis, the time of day when if anyone gets in the way of my survival-mode mentality, I spiral out of control into a crazy shadow of the woman I’d hope to be for Patrick, not the person I so easily become during EO period.
Around 7-9 PM, things usually find a way of miraculously self-resolving, and it’s a beautiful thing since it coincides with some of my favorite television programming. My eyeballs retract back into their sockets, my muscles relax a bit, and if the stars are really aligned, I might even locate an opened bottle of red wine with exactly 6 ounces left in it. Life’s pretty good around now.
And then comes the Incredibly Dull and Boring, the limbo hours before bedtime when I often find myself slowly—perhaps even aimlessly—picking up the pieces of another day I somehow managed to get through. ID&B involves dirty dishes, paperwork, painstakingly collecting breadcrumbs on the carpet my dear baby likes to leave behind for me…and my mind naturally escapes into a parallel fantasy life.
A fantasy life of exotic residences, paparazzi, and maybe a pair of Christian Louboutins because I’m really dreaming big now, folks. But the gentle clamor of pots soaking in the sink interrupts my trip down La La Land and I downsize to a cozy cottage next door to my parents’ house in Northern California. It would be so nice to be anywhere but here, I think selfishly but not without guilt. King tugs at my oversized sweatpants (I’m truly rocking SEXY these days) and something deep down inside of me knows I CAN’T be anywhere else but here.
I want to escape because don’t we all once in a while? During the Incredibly Dull and Boring my mind races with alternate endings, with a life I could be living if I chose A instead of B or followed through with XY&Z but don’t run away now, Missy. Just live, relish, enjoy, and STAY.
Sometimes to get somewhere you simply have to stay put.