I can't move. I can't go forward. I can't go backwards. I can't stand still.
I woke up this morning early after sleeping roughly 87 hours yesterday. I made a mad dash for the coffee pot, filled my big gulp coffee mug to within an inch of its life and turned on Priscilla - the world's cutest computer.
Good so far.
And then BAM. With the grace that I'm widely known for - I knock over my giant coffee cup. Everywhere is where it went. Covered is what it was. Pissed is the crayon color you'd want to use when depicting my face.
"You are an idiot," I said to me. I'm a total bitch sometimes, especially where I am concerned.
I spend no less than 42 minutes cleaning up coffee all the while telling me what's wrong with me.
"You don't think," I said to me. "You try to do too many things at once. Why don't you just slow down and do one thing at a time?"
I didn't answer. I knew it was a rhetorical question. I also know when I'm like that it's best to ignore me or risk my hot Taurus temper. I once made a grown man cry using nothing but my words and a stern glance.
And a whip.
The long and short of it is that I wound up in a big ass argument with myself during which at one particularly low moment, I told myself I was no longer going to speak to me. I started to cry until I remembered that I don't cry - cause I'm a bad ass and what not.
So here I am. Frozen like the peas that insanely hot guy with no career ambition stocks at Wal-Mart. I have much I should do today, and none of it I want to touch. I feel inept. I feel powerless. I feel confused. I feel like I think spaghetti must feel when I throw it up against the wall to see if it's done and it doesn't stick.
That's me. I'm a spaghetti noodle that doesn't stick. I'm sliding down the wall, telling myself I should have stuck because only the noodles that stick make "the show".
When is the last time in your whole long-legged life anyone told you they feel like spaghetti that doesn't stick? Or frozen like peas? I know, right? I'm your first.
I'm off to pretend to do stuff. I figure if I at least make an attempt to be productive, I won't bitch me out.
Copyright © Sherri Bailey
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