saturday night funk

Thunder snow? Hail in February? 6 inches of now before the rain? February??? They said it was coming. I was annoyed by it all. To hell with canceling events before the storm even gets here. Make plans, if you have to change them change them. It's February in Minnesota, what do you expect. Get over it, we were spoiled with 40-50 degree temps in December and January.

Well, it came. "They" were right. Last night driving to the bar at 10:30 in blinding snow and watching thunder and lightening in the sky was just too strange. There was July-like thunder clouds with severe lightening and it was snowing. This morning at 5 am I was awakened to ice pelting against the window two feet from my head. It wasn't ice falling, but it turned to ice as soon as it hit the window. Don't know which kept me awake more...the rain pounding or my supposed yelling in my sleep (boyfriend says I was yelling in my sleep...considering what I do remember of my dreams, the few I did have, I believe him). It was a long night.

I chopped through the 1/2 to 1 inch thick layer of ice on top of the 6 inches of snow to shovel the sidewalk this morning. That was weird. The roads were surprisingly driveable. Slushy but reasonably okay. Wish the rest of the day had been reasonably okay. I would have taken reasonably okay.

Instead, this is how I'm spending my Saturday night in an attempt to cope...

I have snowflake covered flannel pajama pants on with socks, I just inhaled a bag of microwave popcorn and I'm on my third or fourth glass of Merlot. We started installing the new dishwasher this afternoon and it's not done and I have shed a gazillion tears. What is my "Problem"?

All I wanted at Menard's was a 90 degree elbow with a 3/8th inch threaded end. Well, the idiot plumbing counter salesperson was clueless. Not only clueless, he didn't listen to what I needed. I left with three separate pieces of copper coupling to "make-do" with becaues he didn't have what I needed and implied no such thing existed. This took an absorbant amount of time. I eventually made it out with these three pieces, a piece of connecting hose, plumber's tape, and salt for my water softner. I got in line at Culver's to get our lunch. Did I mention this was taking a crazy amount of time? If not, it was to the point of the boy calling me to make sure everything was okay. By the way, I thought that was cute considering the shitty weather and all.

Well, I pounded my way into the house (a layer of ice made it impossible to ring the doorbell and my hands were too full to open the knob). The first words out of the boy's mouth as I was trying to explain were "these aren't going to work". It sent me into tears. Tears! Flaming, burning tears. He got mad, put his coat on and started to leave. Like that helped the tears! I just wanted to frickin' finish the dishwasher installation, I was pissed as hell at the salesperson for not knowing his shit, and now I was trying to explain myself to my boyfriend for bringing home the parts I brought home. What I really wanted to do...curl up in the fetal position with my cats and cry like there was no tomorrow.

Why the hell do I feel like that?

We managed to eat lunch. He picked up the "right" piece that "doesn't exist" at Home Depot and we will finish the installation tomorrow. I got a nap and had jacked up dark dreams. I have completed several cards and one photo book cover. I have my flannel sheets in the dryer. I have devoured my bag of popcorn, I'm still working on the bottle of wine, and I'm watching The Devil Wears Prada alone on a Saturday night thanks to the damn storm that made it not the wisest decision to go out for pizza and a movie with a group of friends, even though I really wanted to and now instead we all played it safe and stayed home, the boyfriend is at home slaving over work on the weekend because he has presentations and deadlines all before Wednesday and all I want to do is cry myself to sleep on his shoulder for no identifiable reason and instead am downing a nice bottle of Merlot in Eddie Bauer flannel with the Devil Wears Prada and Orville Redenbacher all alone on a Saturday night.

What the heck is my funk about?



Maybe the brunch with a friend and her daughter tomorrow morning will help all this. Maybe a long night's sleep in freshly cleaned flannel sheets with a good book will make me feel better. But I want to know where the hell is it coming from?