Hey, remember Manic Mondays? Remember how regular they were? All full of glamour boards, recipes, annoyingly cloyingly cute antidotes about my life?
It turns out, when one works for an accounting office, Monday is always the busiest day. Always. Dealing with The Greatest Generation, phones that never stop ringing, the expectation that you can grow more arms at will to deal with everyone’s never ending neediness, the constant need for perfection but don’t forget! It’s literally your job to appear calm and cheerful at all times with a goddamn smile pinned to your face like you are in Henry VIII’s nightmarish court throughout your entire work day.
And . . .as you know Charmers, because I literally never shut up about it, I have my first book out this summer so there’s also that pressure we previously discussed to be like the Lead Player from Pippin, always ready to lead your charge to the next exciting event.
So let’s take a step back. Manic Mondays aren’t really working for me because by the time I get home on a Monday, I am devoid of joy, fun and a will to live. Also, I don’t really want to be a non stop glamour machine for the next six months. It’s exhausting. There will be occult discussion, oversharing and all the other things you love but what I really miss? Is just word vomiting about my life. Then we all get to feel less like we are drowning in a teaspoon of water because at least we are drowning together, right?
It’s not all darkness and dragons, of course. There was Pippin with MamaFran with preshow aviation drinks. A nearly in stone location for my book launch gala (sure, why not me) finally. Chocolate stout ice cream with a charming boy in New Hope. Beauty and the Beast with Jow. Brunches at my favorite bagel place and new haunts that I like, full of maple butter and beignets. Plotting over dinner with one of my oldest friends (who did not like my current choice for a book launch and rightly so and would not rest until she found the right one). Small pleasures to offset the unending dreariness of lenten austerities that I foolishly made when I still had a will to live as well as hours and hours at the office and our cat Max II, who is clearly trying to kill us for reasons only known to him.
So instead of Manic Mondays, I will now do “Dear Diary” which will likely be mostly devoid of any useful occult information for you, but perhaps some daily life help.
- We need to reconfigure Spare Oom. Again. Which makes me want to fall into a torpor for about a century. Tabled.
- We need to reconfigure our altar space. See #1. Tabled.
- I have not been to any Planned Parenthood meetings and have only done a v. nominal amount of fundraising for my chosen cause this year because I have not figured out how to get two extra hours in my day yet.
- I go to bed between 8:30-9:30 currently which sounds indulgent but it’s the only way I’m surviving currently with my fibro.
- Our house looks like it’s been overrun by garbage animals.
- I am not going to the gym or yoga.
- I have not written anything in approximately forever.
- I have not crafted anything for our upcoming Trenton Punk Rock show. We’ll be there on Sunday, April 9.
- I have overscheduled myself completely, but it’s the only way I’m surviving.
- I have not eaten dinner yet
- I rarely help make dinner curently
- It is v difficult to see past tax season this year. Harder than usual. And I wrote a book last year during it.
- My tummy piercing after fifteen years decided to snap off in the middle and now I have two little horns above my tummy.
- I am having trouble accepting help for Max II and feel unbearably guilty about it.
So that’s all for today. Do you have confessions you would like to share with the group?