So I’m going a little out of my mind here.
And the thing is, I’m less stressed.
Let me explain.
My gray hair is coming in much more slowly, the lines on my face have seemingly softened instead of deepening, and I’ve lost a few sterling. I’m spending less, eating less, and drinking less.
But I’m annoyed for what feels like all the time.
Whereas, in my previous existence, my grays were coming in faster than Walgreens could keep my L’Oreal Feria color in stock so much so that I stopped dying my hair. Every morning, I’d wake up and see a line that wasn’t there the night before. I had the liquor store across the street on speed dial and the old man who ran the store knew my name, face, and address.
Don’t even get me started on how much I spent on Seamless each month which inversely correlated with the amount of sleep I got each night (the numbers are not ideal).
But I smiled more. I think I laughed more too. I remembered those times with fondless while doing math homework with my seven year old nephew who was wishing his attention was on Minecraft or Lego Marvel instead of my how many pennies Julie had to begin with after she was left with thirteen but sold a record for five cents. Let’s just say that experience had me wishing I had grays to pull out or an adult to put into his or her place.
ASIDE: Math homework writers, seriously, you guys are STILL constructing problems about selling their wares for pennies and profit??! How about dollar bills or credit card balances or gallons of fresh water left for starving countries? Or what about volunteering materials for habitat for humanity and needing to figure out the cost of the lumber? No wonder each generation grows up to be more isolated, self-deserving, selfish, and worldly yet ignorant at the same time. Sheesh. Okay, end rant.
So here is my hypothesis:
Previous existence: Stress level was high but so was my level of Patience — because it was required to be! I couldn’t explode, become overtly frustrated, although trust me I did skirt the line there. I had to be the face in the calm of the storm, the voice of reason. (Again, don’t know how well I did in that regard.)
So: Stress High, Patience High because it’s superficially inflated, physical and mental toll high
Here: Hakuna Matata. Anything goes. If I’m feeling pissy about something, I make my feelings known. I’m sure my seven year old munchkin was breathing through these arithmetic problems I forced him to go through with the new Sponge Bob movie at the end of the tunnel (we’re going tomorrow). I can get cranky with each of my siblings, and you know what? They avoid me. They know my temperature so they know when to get me…and when they don’t get it, the beauty of it is that I can shout “Hey I’m feeling cranky, leave me alone!”.
So my feelings of stress are acute, I have less patience to deal with them, which means they get dealt with and I move on and I think this has a more positive experience on the aging of my body which is transitioning from sustained stress, forced patience, and vibrant exposure to people, places, and cuisine.
Go freaking figure.
Anyway, my eyes are crossed all over the place after thousands of lines of editing (i HATE HATE EDITING) tonight. I need to get 1 weeks worth of work done for my FABULOUS VALENTINE SURPRISE – Re-release of 2 books plus one previously unpublished! Yay!
I now leave you with this gem from tonight. I can’t help it. This is what it’s turned into. I’m the only one home so I’m constantly cleaning and then five savages traipse through and disrupt all my hard work while I’m in the middle of the study arguing and yelling at my heroines for being dumb. Then I exit the study, examine the disarray, ingest one healthy glass of Syrah (8% alc vol.) before I start to go batty on the post its. Like these: